


Accepting You

by bluerose5



Category: Mass Effect - All Media Types, Mass Effect: Andromeda
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Alternate Universe, Angst, Bad Romance, Crime Lord Reyes, Dark fic, Family Issues, Fluff and Angst, Forced Prostitution, Future Dystopian America, Hurt/Comfort, Love at First Sight, M/M, No Rape Between Scott/Reyes, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Organized Crime, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Possessive Behavior, Rape/Non-con Elements, Romance, Slow Build, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-27
Updated: 2017-09-04
Packaged: 2018-11-19 18:43:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 8
Words: 41,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11319357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluerose5/pseuds/bluerose5
Summary: Scott Ryder had turned 22 the day that he met the man that saved his life. It was the first time in awhile that Scott really questioned if his luck had truly run out.For better or for worse, Scott was forever his, from that moment on.Because that was the day when he met Reyes Vidal.[A/N: Please read ALL of the tags before continuing. This fic will be dark, so read at your own discretion.]





	1. Preface: His Savior

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve had this idea stuck in my head for so long. I had planned on something much longer for the first chapter, but I’m happy with this sort of prologue that I wrote. Anyways, hope you all enjoy! Happy Reyes Appreciation Week, my fellow Reyder junkies! <3

            Scott had never thought of himself as a lucky man.

            Not to sound ungrateful or anything, but —after all the struggles that he’s been through— he’s had to learn a thing or two about this world that he lived in. Regardless of whether others approved or not, he was here to stay.

            And, if his new reality taught him nothing else, he knew for sure that there was no such thing as weakness around these parts, where life was vicious and bloodthirsty, a constant tangle of criminal politics that Scott was still trying to wrap his head around. Survival of the fittest reigned in this rabid jungle, and vulnerability had no place. If you showed your enemy even the slightest chink in your armor, ten times out of ten, you’d wound up dead, abandoned in a filthy ditch somewhere with no evidence left behind.

            Good thing Scott was never one to back down from a challenge. Not now, at least. His days of living in fear were over, and he would make sure of that personally.

            Of course, he knew that he had it better than some others that were involved in this never-ending turf war. With organized crime making a slow, but steady, comeback in America, there were always “territory disputes” occurring in the underground, the gangs and the syndicates fighting to see who would come out on top victoriously. After all, an empire was in the process of being forged, and everyone had a stake in it.

            Which made things kind of sad when Scott saw the poor, ignorant civilians out there, unknowingly caught in the middle, mere pawns in the greater scheme of things. Many continued to obliviously buy into the bullshit lies that America’s “leaders” were feeding them, preoccupied with greedy consumerism and distracting entertainment. Politicians and law enforcement had strayed so far from only decades before, corrupting America’s true purpose to suit their own needs, in so little time. So, it came as no surprise when they started bending over backwards to please the rising syndicates, especially when they practically offered these figureheads as much money, popularity, and power that they could ask for. All they had to do was to manipulate the citizens into believing that everything was just as it was before.

            Simple, one would think, until you unexpectedly get thrown into the underground’s inner circles. Because, shamefully, Scott had been one of those clueless fools at one point, blinded by everything that his comfy, entitled life provided for him. After he had been kicked out by his father, though, disowned and betrayed by his family, his own flesh and blood, he had started living solo. Not that he had much choice over the matter.

            For a seventeen year old, however, there wasn’t much that he could do at the time, homeless and jobless as he was. With his father being a big name in the public for his military achievements, along with his mother’s growing reputation in the medical technology industry, everyone instantly turned their backs on Scott when word got out about his eviction. He was eventually deemed the “Troubled Child” among his and his family’s peers, everyone exalting Sara as the last hope for the Ryder name. They all spat in Scott’s inferior presence, shutting him out while they pointlessly tried to justify Alec’s actions. The man could do no wrong, not in their eyes. What had hurt even worse, though, was the fact that Sara and Ellen didn’t do a single thing while Scott’s name was ruthlessly dragged through the mud, the young man booted out with nothing but the clothes on his back. They just sat back and let it all happen, soaking it in, not once speaking out against Alec.

            Fuck. Them. All. Just because Scott couldn’t live up to dearest Alec’s expectations didn’t mean that they could just treat him like shit, then expect him to come crawling back. After everything that happened between them, after everything that had been said, he refused to submit and stick around for his daily dose of mistreatment. He wasn’t about to beg his own parents to want him. No one should ever have to do that, and Scott would be damned if he had.

            For the longest time after that, his life had merely continued to fall apart. Day after day, it was always something new. He had to drop out of his last year of high school to get a full-time job, in hopes to support himself, only to have every job last less than a couple of weeks. They always found someone “better qualified,” and they had little sympathy when he expressed just how much he _needed_ the money. Nowadays, if you didn’t have an education, you couldn’t get a job. Simple as that.

            It didn’t matter that Scott _wanted_ to get his GED, to go to college. It didn’t matter that he had dreams and aspirations, just like the rest of them. It didn’t matter that he had wanted to work things out on his own, and it didn’t matter that he had needed to find a way to financially support himself before doing so. He didn’t live up to what they wanted, so they got rid of him, no more, no less. Everyone basically saw him as some freeloading punk now, and —with the nation’s growing restrictions on its budget, and the world’s economy in the dump— Scott didn’t qualify for any type of federal assistance. Not one, single penny.

            Hungered and abandoned, he had suffered alone on the cold streets of New York City, doing his best to avoid the gangs that were gradually starting to overwhelm the area, trickling over the unclaimed lands like a swarm of cockroaches.

            However, being the lonesome, desperate kid that Scott had been, he was like a shining beacon in the dead of night for the unsavory types. With the newfound gangs on the prowl, sinister predators on the hunt, he could only hide for so long before he had been found.

            When they eventually did find him, Scott had been unable to defend himself at all, little more than skin and bones, begging on the streets for scraps. Those seedy, criminal lowlifes had spotted easy prey, and none of them hesitated to pounce.

            Promising him sweet dreams of a better life, Scott had stood strong while some tiny, insignificant gang members presented him with their disgustingly sugarcoated propaganda. Although momentarily tempted, the offer of food and a warm bed teasing him viciously, Scott remained vehement in his rejections, not wanting to personally get involved in that shitshow. When the “gentlemen” realized that he wasn’t going to budge, they took him by force.

            Drugging and beating him, he had been dragged back to one of their hideouts, debased until he was nothing more than a cheap prostitute, repeatedly being used by all of the gang members. With drugs continuously fogging his mental state, accompanied by a diminishing will to live, Scott became too weak to fight this forced fate. Day and night, he was sold to the highest bidder, man or woman or whoever else. In the end, it didn’t matter, Scott’s days blearily blending into years, a circulating cycle of drugs and rape and tears passing him by, all in a flash.

            For the longest time, Scott had simply floated by in his bleak existence, unaware of the changing world around him. Power struggles had been laid bare, the nation’s dynamics chaotically shifting, and a domestic war was still being fought to this day. Locked away, however, Scott didn’t know, nor did he care. He had been stripped of fruitless hopes for escape, for a future, unable to look a second beyond the present. That was, until _he_ came along.

            Scott Ryder had turned 22 the day that he met the man that saved his life. It was the first time in awhile that Scott really questioned if his luck had truly run out.

            For better or for worse, Scott was forever _his_ , from that moment on.

           

Because that was the day when he met Reyes Vidal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m sorry about hurting Scott. Trust me, I love my babies. I don’t like hurting them. T_T
> 
> But, what can I say? I’m weak for a good crime story (probably why I’ve fallen for Reyes in the first place), and I want to explore Scott in this setting more. He’s definitely not going to be the dorky cinnamon roll that we know from Andromeda. After the shit he’s been through in this AU, he has a lot of things to work through.
> 
> I just ask that my readers be patient with me. Other than a few notes here and there, I don’t plan my stories much. I sometimes just write when inspiration strikes, so I might be randomly alternating between the updates in my different Reyder universes (this and the D/s one) for awhile. This is my first multi-chapter fanfic, so I might be spending a bit more time on this.
> 
> Anyways, rant over. Don't be afraid to give feedback or comments. <3


	2. The Man With the Golden Eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scott had been waiting for a way out for so long. His only options, at this point, were death or rescue, and he definitely wasn't looking out for a rescue anytime soon.
> 
> Good thing Reyes proved him wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I put a little surprise in this chapter.
> 
> It got way out of hand.
> 
> Oh, well, hope you enjoy. I know I'm way too deep into this story now.
> 
> CHAPTER WARNINGS: Rape/Non-con, Murder, Drug and Sex Trafficking (Not Performed by Reyes and co.), and Suicidal Thoughts

**New York City, New York**

**2057 CE**

            It was a rare, exciting day when Reyes left the comforts of his home to help out another syndicate boss. As of late, such a thing had become taboo, entirely unheard of when you lived in a world where no one could be trusted. Everyone was out for the country and its profits, and Reyes had long thought that the other crime lords had given up on the concept of alliances.

            That was before Reyes met John Shepard, leader of the Renegades.

            Like Reyes, Shepard was ex-military, a man that had seen firsthand how fucked up the world could be and lived to tell the tale. A man that had saw how corrupt the country was becoming and decided that he could do better, even if it meant doing so in the gray areas of morality, even if it meant having an endless amount of blood on his hands. They were both relatively new to the scene, young meat to the older, more powerful syndicates, but neither man was one to be underestimated. Every day, their organizations were growing faster and stronger than any other, expanding their reach beyond their home grounds, and it was only pissing off the other bosses when Reyes and John so boldly undermined their status quo.

            It was too bad for them, really, because both men were leaving a lasting impact, their names —or, in the Charlatan’s case, his moniker— climbing up the unspoken ranks in powerful leaps.

            And, at the moment, they couldn’t have chosen a better time to enlist in this war. The Big Five in the underground had their eyes set stubbornly on the bigger picture, none of them selfless enough to back down and see the benefit of having a “business partner” in this territorial mash-up. Cerberus, Omega, the Shadow Broker, the Benefactor, and the Outcasts… All a bunch of assholes that relied too heavily on their regional perceptions.

            The country was still rigidly locked into its five major precincts —the Northeast, the Southeast, the Southwest, the West, and the Midwest. Under Shepard and the Charlatan, however, the entire game will change. Desiring a coast-to-coast connection, both men had agreed to stay on their preferred sides, Shepard battling for control in the Northeast and Midwest, Reyes in the Southeast and Southwest. All of the Western States and their resources, they agreed, would be shared, and the North and the South would be open to any mutually-beneficial trade afterwards. All they had to do was take out the Big Five, and this country would be theirs.

            Bold, some would say. Ambitious, indeed. The select few that actually knew of their plans, however, plainly called them stupid. Either they would get killed for provoking the beasts, or they would succeed, only to have the other turn on them afterwards. Of course, Reyes knew how to pick and choose his fights, and his allies.

            And, judging from his records, Reyes knew that the Commander wasn’t someone that he wanted to anger.

            That didn’t mean that Reyes had no contingency plans. He had been deceived enough times in his life to understand that Shepard, although a friend and an ally now, could easily screw him over the second that they gained control.

            Perhaps, even before then, if someone offered him a better deal. It wasn’t exactly a secret that Shepard had been involved with Cerberus and “the Illusive Man” before he went rogue, and the underground’s politics was a fluid being. Nothing was ever set in stone, even if Reyes was hoping for this particular deal to pan out. While he would like to believe that he and Shepard had formed a solid foundation together, Reyes wasn’t fool enough to mindlessly accept such a situation without proper preparations, should things take a turn for the worst.

            Worst case scenario, he dies. Best case scenario, this all plays out like planned. In Reyes’ eyes, it was worth the risk.

            Which was why he agreed to this mission of Shepard’s today. Best to keep his business associates happy, especially one that’s this significant to the war’s outcome.

            Obviously, Reyes had a few men on standby, monitoring the situation discreetly. While Reyes could take care of himself, he was a man that always liked to leave himself a way out. If Shepard had set a trap for him today, he would be ready. This mission would determine how their unsteady partnership would unfold.

            “You’re thinking pretty hard there, Vidal,” a low, gravelly voice rumbled distrustfully, effectively breaking Reyes free of his reverie. “Hope you have your mind in the right place for this. Can’t afford any distractions.”

            Staring outside of the heavily-tinted windows for a second longer than necessary, simply to provoke the man, Reyes listened to the whir of machines around him, the guttural drone the only other sound in the clunky, inconspicuous van.

            Turning to the speaker, Reyes stoically regarded Shepard’s second, a large, strong man that had to have been six foot six, at the least. With short, silver hair slicked back, his sharp, icy blue eyes stared at Vidal challengingly. The right side of his pale face was marred with twisted scars, but those scars did little to hide the dark blue tattoo that spanned from ear to ear, covering cheekbones and nose alike, symbolically pledging allegiance to the Vakarian family’s lineage.

            Reyes sniffed indignantly, lip curling into a sneer.

            “Are you questioning my loyalty, Mr. Vakarian?”

            “Can you blame me?” Garrus snarled. “Sorry that you’re not known for being the most trustworthy person, _Charlatan_. I guess that just comes with being the Collective’s leader, right? No, you couldn’t have possibly done _anything_ wrong to earn your reputation.”

            “My, my, someone’s a bit paranoid,” Reyes baited.

            “With good reason, I’d say. After I heard that Shepard was alive and ready to take over, I left Aria’s petty gang because his life is my first priority. All of the Renegades know who’d they lay their life down for, whose purpose we follow, but you… You’re nothing more than an outsider, Vidal, so make sure to watch yourself. I’d love to have the chance to send you back to the Collective in pieces.”

            “Noted,” Reyes snipped brusquely. From his spot near Garrus, John rolled his eyes at the two of them, and a stifled snicker erupted from Joker in the driver’s seat. Tali, the petite but deadly brunette on Reyes’ bench, looked at them all with exasperation, training her lavender-colored eyes back onto her tablet, targeting possible hack zones and surveillance areas.

            “Come now, boys,” Shepard said, slapping a companionable hand on Garrus’ back with a wide grin, his stern gaze watching all of Reyes’ most minute movements. “We’re all friends here, working on the same side. This Cerberus base won’t know what hit them.”

            “Damn straight,” a low, sultry voice chimed in from the front passenger seat, the sound of guns being loaded and readied following the vigilante’s words. “Fucking traffickers,” she huffed, a flash of red appearing between the front two seats, followed by the face and body of an angel.

            _Too bad she’s anything but,_ Reyes thought to himself warily, eyes roaming over her armor-clad body appreciatively, the woman somehow modeling the look as if she had walked straight out of a men’s wet dream. _More like a devil, actually._

            While she appraised the group in the back analytically, a wicked grin spread across Jane Shepard’s pouty lips, her emerald green eyes flashing hungrily as they focused in on Vakarian. He shifted under the woman’s intimidating gaze, and Reyes honestly couldn’t blame him. This woman was a legend in the underground, an independent worker that set no restrictions on herself. She was her only boss, and she would just as quickly be your enemy as she would be your ally, depending all on whether your plan coincided with hers.

            Lately, however, luckily for them, that force of nature had been working more and more with the Renegades, especially after Shepard supposedly came back from the dead, following two years of being MIA. Apparently, her older brother was Jane’s weak spot, which was nice to know and all, but Reyes knew that she refused to officially join up until she was promised equal powers as John’s partner. Now, that was something that could potentially throw a wrench into John’s and Reyes’ plans, if they weren’t careful.

            Unable to resist her magnetic charm, however, Reyes couldn’t help but to respect and admire the woman’s persistence and determination. She took no shit, he gave her that, and he wouldn’t mind having someone like her in on their empire. That situation all depended on John, however, and Reyes knew better than to get involved in any family disputes between the two. It was best to leave them to their own devices.

            “Garrus,” the powerful redhead purred, addressing the shaken second. “don’t be rude. Mr. Vidal here is our guest.” She gave the Charlatan a onceover, lingering deliberately while Garrus started to silently seethe. Reyes flashed the jealous man a smug smile, catching Jane’s mischievous wink. Toying further with the man, she let her tongue dart out and trace over her upper lip, her next words punctuated by her overt ogling. “And what a fine guest he is.”

            John scoffed in disgust, cutting Garrus off before he could hastily respond. “Keep your legs closed, Sis. Isn’t it taxing enough on my health that you and Vakarian are fucking?”

            “I don’t get paid enough for this,” Tali sighed quietly beside Reyes, grabbing his attention from the now-bickering siblings. “I should’ve made Liara come on this one.”

            “And miss all of the fun?” Reyes joked, winking playfully at her. She simply gave him an unimpressed glance and continued tapping away.

            “Hey, if you could get your heads out of your asses for one second,” Joker interjected snarkily, “you would’ve seen that we’re nearing the destination. Start prepping to leave. I’ll drop you off a few blocks from the warehouse and circle around. I’ll be on standby till you call, Shep.”

            “Hear you loud and clear, Joker,” Shepard responded, checking that all of his bullet-proof armor was strapped on securely.

            Holstering his weapons, he packed on a pistol, an SMG, a shotgun, and an assault rifle. All custom made, top-of-the-line, and technically illegal. The right to bear arms had long since been revoked, the Bill of Rights and other natural rights having been stripped of the people for the sake of “protecting this democracy” when divisions had grown to a boiling point, civil war appearing imminent, rising even to the extent of invoking a nation-wide state of martial law at one point. It was from that point on when certain individuals started to fight back against the leadership itself, deeming themselves worthy of ruling the people better, manipulating the government through control or murder. That was when this so-called Uprising was born.

            Ironic how the very actions that were supposed to stop the conflict and strife did the exact opposite.

            Focusing back on the task at hand, Reyes started checking his own armor, adjusting the clasps until everything was nice and snug. Lifting his helmet off of the bench, he slipped it on —careful of the comm piece in his ear— and dropped the face shield down. Placing a pair of knives in his boots for any needed melee, he packed on two shotguns, and two assault rifles, along with as much ammo as he could carry. While he would normally opt for a sniping position, Reyes knew that Vakarian would more than likely bite his head off for suggesting that anyone other than him should take on the long-ranged shots.

            Taking a belt of grenades from Shepard, having everything ranging from concussive to flashbangs to frags, Reyes strapped it on while Shepard tapped his mic experimentally.

            “Comms check, everyone,” John said, everybody nodding in affirmation when his voice trickled through. “Good, now, this is supposed to be one of Cerberus’ smaller drug operations, but I think I stressed enough to that bitch, Lawson, about closing that place down while it’s on my turf. Looks like we’ll have to send our eviction notice in person.

            “Jane and Garrus, you’ll both be on sniping duty. Go find a vantage point as soon as Joker reaches the drop-off point. If intel’s right, there should be six guards outside —two on the rooftop, two at the gates, and two at the doors themselves. Take them out, then we’ll enter in. Make it quick and clean. We don’t need anyone sounding any alarms before we’re ready. If any stragglers make it past us, take ‘em out.”

            “Understood,” Jane drawled nonchalantly, Garrus nodding his understanding.

            “Alright, ground team,” John stated, turning to address Reyes and Tali. “Tali, you’re our tech expert. There might be some extra security set up outside. While they’re taking out the guards, disable any turrets, drones, or mechs that you can detect. After that, start hacking all of their systems that you can. Find us a map, info, anything that you can get your hands on. When we start to breach the facility, I need you to get into their power grid. Shut it down. Reyes and I will be on the offensive, and you just set up as many drones and turrets as your heart desires.”

            With a nod, Tali laughed lightly. “You sure know how to show a girl a good time, Shep,” she taunted. Joker’s voice cut in, the van slowing down to a sluggish roll.

            “We’ve reached our destination, ladies and gentleman,” Joker announced playfully, the van stopping on a deathly quiet street. “Thank you for flying with us and blah, blah, blah. Get your butts in gear. I’ll be back on your say-so, Shepard.”

            “Thanks, asshole,” Shepard rebutted, squeezing the driver’s shoulder gratefully before they started to depart.

            As soon as they exited, Jane and Garrus surveyed the area a bit before they both took off into a sprint in different directions, telling the others exactly where they would be perched. Joker gave a mock-salute out of the window and took off. Whistling a cheerful tune, Shepard pulled out one of his assault rifles, Reyes doing the same while Tali’s thumbs skittered across the screen of a cellphone, a large duffel hanging from her shoulder, having replaced her tablet with something more portable. It didn’t seem to hinder her in the slightest, however, having reprogrammed the phone to fit her exact needs, just as deadly and formidable as any other piece of tech was in her capable hands. She immediately got to work.

            Walking slowly towards the direction of the warehouse, weapons poised and ready, the streets at night were as silent as a ghost town, the locals knowing better than to go out past sunset. The imposed curfews had been effective for awhile now, all “with the public’s best interests in mind,” but that was just pointless political jargon, as always. It was really a law to minimalize civilian casualties, or to just keep their disruptive presence from interfering in a potential raid, set in place after the syndicate bosses and gang leaders had put enough pressure on President Udina and Vice President Tann, along with all of their members of Congress. Now, no one —aside from the occasional, presumably suicidal idiot— dared to venture out at night. The streets always digressed into large, gory bloodbaths, and it wasn’t ever safe to come out at night unless a crime lord specified otherwise.

            And, if tonight went as desired, Reyes knew that John would be throwing his people a party tomorrow night, back in his division of NYC. Of course, there would be guards on patrol for the duration, but the lords knew that their people needed a break every once and awhile.

            If tonight went as desired for Reyes, though, he knew that he would be throwing his own celebration, once he made it back to Miami. By any means, he wouldn’t be making a public appearance as anyone other than some “third-rate smuggler,” but he was certain that Keema would be a marvelous host. All they had to do was make it through tonight.

            As soon as they had the building in sight, they stuck close to the cover of the shadows, hopping from alleyway to alleyway until they had an overall view of the multi-story facility. Reyes wouldn’t have been surprised if it ran underground as well.

            A voice cut through the night.

            “Six targets confirmed. Not much tech, other than a few drones, in sight. Be ready, ground team,” Vakarian said. Tali set to work at that, her long-range scanner sweeping the area, pinpointing each piece of tech, disabling it in seconds.

            “Just try to keep up, big guy,” Jane responded.

            “Always do,” he chuckled, taking out the first guy on the roof, Jane’s shot following instantly after to take out the second.

            He took out both at the door in a quick, but admirably accurate, succession, Jane squawking indignantly.

            “Stop taking my kills,” Jane huffed, turning her scope on the guards at the gate. Another of her bullets whizzed by, striking the first man solidly through the head, Vakarian’s bullet taking out the last one.

            “One less to worry about,” he purred. “That’s 4-2, Jane. You’re getting kind of rusty.”

            “Yeah, yeah,” she sneered, watching while the ground team came out of cover, approaching the gate. “Yack it up, big guy, we still have more to come.”

            Tali groaned in annoyance as she approached the gate, getting within range of the DNA scanner to disarm it, her phone emitting a jamming signal that took out any security cameras along the way, freezing the frames so that any guards watching would see the same, unthreatening image that was in place before they arrived. With a resounding _click_ , the automated fence slid open. “Get a room, you two.”

            “Trust me, as soon as this is over, I plan on it,” Jane cackled, Garrus chuckling in response, but not denying it.

            “The things that I don’t need to hear about on a job,” John sighed, making his way towards the door, Reyes and Tali in tow.

            Once Tali set her bag of tech constructs on the ground, John reached in and pulled out two sticky bombs and a detonator. Reyes kept a lookout while Tali started to work her magic, worming her way into the facility’s power grid. John planted the two bombs on the reinforced double doors, and the trio walked out of its minimalized blast zone. Reyes pulled out a concussive grenade and a flashbang, both thumbs tucked into the rings, exchanging a solemn nod with John.

            Shepard stared at Tali until she was ready, giving him a silent thumbs up. He grinned.

            “On your signal, baby girl,” John told her, his finger caressing the detonator’s button excitedly, the adrenaline of the job getting the best of everyone. Tapping a few more times on her phone, Tali spoke to everyone on their channel.

            “Cutting the power in three…

            Two…

            One.”

*****

            Staring up at the blank ceiling before him, the dim light shining way too bright for Scott’s muddled brain, he laid on his dingy cot while the woman before him fucked him dry with her strap on, the dildo being way too wide and way too long for Scott to take on days _with_ proper lubrication. He felt numb in his lower regions, the pain and tearing having been too much, blood trickling from his hole and down his thigh.

            It had been a punishment, apparently. After the guards had handcuffed him to his pitiful excuse of a bed, his visitor today had wanted to see him struggle, to rip and tear his wrists in a futile attempt to get away. Then, despite all of her efforts, his dick refused to entertain her sick fantasies, resting flaccid and limp against his thigh, tired of this endless cycle of torture. No matter how long she rode or sucked him, he couldn’t get hard, and that infuriated this disgusting witch to no end.

            Paying the staff extra, she had forked over enough money to leave damage, the guards handing her a large, vicious knife when she returned to Scott, determined on breaking an already broken spirit. It hadn’t been the first time that a client had sliced Scott up for their enjoyment, and it probably wouldn’t be his last.

            It didn’t help matters that this floor was set up like some cheap prison, every prostitute locked away in an open cage, only bars separating them from each other. Unless the client paid and asked for a private room specifically, everything was conducted out in public, meant to humiliate and demean the prisoners while others had a free, front-row seat to their suffering. It wasn’t unusual for the guards —male or female— to masturbate to the live performance, sometimes even joining in at the client’s behest. Even if they didn’t get involved with the action, they would simply make the appointed whore clean them up afterwards, blaming the filth on them, but Scott was certain that he could hear someone in a nearby cage jerking off to the view. Not a guard, then.

            That wasn’t so uncommon either, the prostitutes getting off while the others were raped. They were just glad that it wasn’t them that had been chosen that day, so why shouldn’t they enjoy the show, sadistically watching while others suffered as they had? Scott never did it personally, staring at his stone wall all day, emotionless and lifeless, only moving to get his small trays of food, or to use the bathroom in his flimsy bucket. Today, they had scrubbed him down in preparation of his client’s arrival —the only times that they were allowed such luxuries, like showers and toothbrushes.

            Now, though, dirtied and soiled, he did his best to let his mind wander, trying to disappear into the safety of his mind, ignoring the sweaty woman above him and the sounds of horny grunts beside him.

            He ignored it all, resolutely focused on the ceiling. He just wanted to pass out, at the least, or to die. That would be preferable, but he would be grateful for whichever came first.

            Try as he may, he couldn’t ignore the one thing that had been eating at him since this morning’s patrol had passed him by. One of the guards had asked another about the date, their gossip being Scott’s only source of information. When she had answered, Scott had felt like his entire world had fallen away beneath his feet.

            _May 21, 2057._ It was his birthday. He was eighteen when he had been captured, and four whole years had come and gone since then. Difficult to believe, impossible to swallow. So much time wasted, never to be brought back.

            _Happy birthday, Scott,_ he thought wearily to himself, his weak body and his feeble bed jolting in time with the woman’s relentlessly brutal thrusts.  _Make a wish,_ his mind grumbled bitterly.

Of course, Scott only wished for it all to stop, whether through death or rescue, but he knew that chances were that the former was more likely to happen than the latter. This wasn’t some foolishly naïve fairytale, and there wasn’t some heroic knight in shining armor, riding in to save the day.

            So, seeing as how a rescue wasn’t coming any time soon…

            In response to that thought, as if the universe was waiting for the exact moment to prove him wrong, the facility’s power snapped out unexpectedly, a series of screams and shouts circulating throughout the room in shock.

            The darkness only lasted for a second before an explosion rocked the building, the red emergency lights sputtering on through their redirected power, the building’s backup generators resurrecting their power supply. A shrill alarm droned on, high-pitched and screeching, and the guards started shouting and barking orders at each other. Snatching the clients out of the cells, herding them away, Scott could only breathe a sigh of relief when the woman slid out of his abused channel, dragged away by an unseen force.

            Nevertheless, chaos continued to swarm the base for an extremely long time, alarms blaring and guards panicking. A voice stormed in over the intercom systems, speaking of a breach in security. An intruder.

            No, not one. More than one. A group. The Renegades.

            Scott didn’t know the name, and he honestly didn’t know if he wanted to. All of the syndicates were alike, as far as he knew, and he would probably just be switching over from one owner to the next.

            Listening while a reign of gunfire abruptly erupted in the hallway, gradually increasing from a dull burst to a loud roar, Scott struggled against the handcuffs, trying to see what he could. The younger occupants in the room, some even in their low teens, were going wild from the violence. Their panicking did nothing to help Scott’s throbbing headache, and he drowsily watched as one man —a guard— entered the room. Speaking low into his earpiece, he gave a shaky breath as he received his orders.

            Without warning, he approached the first cage, the one nearest to the door, occupied by a dazed, fourteen year old girl. With an unmatched coldness, no sympathy at all in his movements, the guard leveled his gun at her. Ice ran down Scott’s spine, and he screamed at the guard, thrashing in his bindings, but it was too late. The girl’s brains were blown out, body slumping against the wall, crimson blood splattered haphazardly onto gray stone.

            It was like hell had been unleashed. Everyone raged in their cages, some swearing, some blubbering, some pleading… Scott simply laid back on his cot, the fight leeching from his bones, tears blurring his vision while he gazed at the ceiling again. His ears started ringing impossibly loud, the prisoners’ voices fading into the background, little more than white noise. The only sounds that reached his ears were the resounding, echoing _clump_ of shoes hitting floor, followed every few seconds by the deafening _bang!_ as the gun went off. The metallic scent of blood filtered in the air, death clinging to his skin, and Scott’s stomach churned and twisted, turning in on itself.

            Hearing a gun being reloaded and cocked, right outside of his cell, Scott didn’t even look up as the tears oozed from his eyes. He simply closed his eyes in defeat, ready to meet his Maker.

            _BANG!_ the shot rang out in the room, deafeningly louder than Scott expected. But, when no pain or darkness occurred, only a spray of hot blood raining over him, Scott peeked open one eye experimentally. Looking beyond his cell, Scott watched just in time to see the guard lifelessly slump over, his chest gaping open. A man stood behind him, shotgun raised, and —looking back at it now— it only took one look for Scott to fall.

            Golden eyes met blue, and it was like the world stopped.

            Scott guessed that you could say that this man literally took his breath away, left him panting and swooning. Because, after one look, Scott ever-so-gracefully passed out, blackness embracing him welcomingly.

*****

            Without taking his eyes off of the unconscious man, Reyes touched a finger over his comm link, the connection sparking to life under his touch.

            “The area’s secured, Shepard,” Reyes reported, reluctantly tearing his gaze away to look at all of the frantic people in the room, “but—” He paused considerately, swallowing thickly at the sight before him. “There’s no sign of Archer. You might want to close in on my location, though.”

            “Why?” Shepard’s voice crackled over the comms. “Did you find something?”

            “You could say that,” Reyes remarked vaguely. Tali chimed in as well, voice troubled and concerned.

            “Boss, this is bigger drugs than we’ve thought. I’ve found stockpiles of Oblivion.” Now, _that_ caught Reyes’ attention.

            “Why in the hell is Oblivion here?!” John snapped angrily, echoing Reyes’ thoughts exactly. “That’s an Outcast-exclusive drug. It should be contained to the Southeast. It has no business in my districts, and I want to know how we somehow managed to let _that_ slip us by.”

            “Sloane _is_ way too greedy to sell the formula for her highest-paying drug,” Reyes agreed, brows furrowing in contemplation, “and she doesn’t share merchandise with the other syndicates, on principal alone.”

            “Yeah, no shit. I’ll have my people dig into this. Someone is going to have hell to pay if we’ve been letting these scum come into _my_ territory and sell Oblivion to _my_ people,” Shepard snarled. “Jane, Vakarian, come in and help Tali with cleanup. Vidal, I’m headed your way. Please, tell me that you’ve found something to make my day better.”

            “My friend, I would, but then I would be lying,” Reyes hummed. “Let’s just say that drug trafficking wasn’t the only trafficking that Cerberus had going on here.”

            It took a single, loaded second of silence for that to settle in.

            Without further fanfare, Shepard let out a curse and cut his connection. Vakarian was the first to recover from the revelation.

            “Shit,” he sighed.

            _Such a way with words,_ Reyes thought, but he knew that everybody was probably thinking the same thing. While Reyes and Shepard dealt in tons of other shady crap, neither were tolerant of drugs and human trafficking, yet another reason why their enemies hated them. They were able to get by without resorting so low, and the Big Five couldn’t stand for the rookies on the scene to upstage them in ways that made the two men more appealing to the public.

            Reyes could only imagine how Shepard was feeling right now, because he had said it perfectly before. These were _Shepard’s_ people. Any harm that came to them was on his head. Sometimes those people deserved it. At other times, however, like in this instance, innocent victims got undeservedly thrown into the fray.

            Soon, Tali had the emergency protocols disabled, the entire facility coming back online as it was before. With the lights brighter, Reyes turned back to the man he had saved. Curiously, Reyes took off his helmet in order to see better, carefully setting it on the ground before he approached the metal bars.

            Upon closer inspection, seeing him clearly for the first time, Reyes’ throat closed up tightly. Even as emaciated as he was, body dotted with blood, the young man was undeniably beautiful. Handsome beyond comparison.

            Maintaining some semblance of his manners, Reyes refused to look at his naked body, focusing instead on his face.

            Pink, full lips were pursed in unconsciousness, unsteady breaths slipping from his mouth. His jaw was sharp and angular, and a layer of stubble coated the lower half of his face. A strong, perfect nose trailed along to his closed eyes, but Reyes could instantly recall that vibrant blue, piercing and hypnotic. With ears that stuck out a bit far, both awkward and adorable, Reyes admired his dark brown hair, distracted for a moment before reality hit him in the gut, reminding him of why this young man had been here.

            Because, just as prominent as the man’s beauty, it was obvious the toll that being here had taken on the stranger. His cheeks were sunken and sallow, his skin pale, and his eyelids a worrying purple, borderline black. Bags rested underneath his eyes, undoubtedly from countless of sleepless nights, and his hair was lifeless and stringy, matted and gnarled from mistreatment. The angles of his jaw were only made more prominent by the fact that he was malnourished, skin stretched tight over a firm bone structure. Reyes didn’t even have to look at the rest of his body to know that he would be just as thin all over, and that set something vicious roaring in Reyes’ chest.

            In that moment, all Reyes could think about was sweeping that man away from this horrific place, protecting him from the world that had so cruelly taken advantage of him. He didn’t deserve this. No one did. Not anyone in this room, but it was like Reyes couldn’t look away from this individual in particular, no matter how hard he tried. Something about him spoke personally to Reyes’ soul, and Reyes was sure that he made an amusing sight. The Charlatan —a notorious crime lord that had hundreds of thousands of people at his beck and call— was utterly captivated by some random stranger, weak in the knees from his presence alone.

            Staggering forward weakly, like a fawn taking her first few steps into the world, Reyes took his last strides towards the cell uneasily. Closing the distance, he swooped down to grab the keys off of the guard’s body along the way.

            Unlocking the door, he stepped in and went to free the man from the handcuffs. As soon as one hand was released, the younger man gasped in shock, eyes darting open and hand snapping out, clutching desperately at Reyes’ thick wrist. Their eyes locked, and the younger man looked monumentally confused, blinking owlishly at Reyes as if he was a mirage, ready to disappear at any sudden movements.

            “Hey, it’s okay,” Reyes soothed uselessly, watching while the man’s eyes darted around in bewilderment, finally landing and settling on the guard’s misshapen body. “It’s all over now, mi príncipe.” It took Reyes an embarrassingly long moment to realize what he had said, his brain slowly catching up with his mouth.

            _Where in the hell did that come from, Vidal?_ he thought to himself in chagrined frustration, continuing on swiftly before he could be questioned on the pet name. _Get your shit together._ “Just let me finish undoing your handcuff, and we will help get you guys out of here. Okay?”

            Breath unsteady, wheezing painfully through gritted teeth, the man did his best to calm himself, turning his attention back on Reyes, those bright baby blues gazing at the Charlatan cautiously.

            Eventually, he gave a wary, disbelieving nod. Shaking his left hand pointedly, handcuffs rattling noisily against the cot, Reyes went to work to unlock that final one. Once he had his hands back, the stranger shoved himself as far away as possible, burrowing his back into the stone wall. Rubbing feeling back into his tender wrists, he continued to stare at Reyes blankly, obviously not knowing what to make of the man.

            That shouldn’t have hurt Reyes as much as it did.

            Clenching his jaw, the Charlatan forced himself to keep his distance, regarding the frightened man.

            “What’s your name?” Reyes inquired. The stranger merely cocked his head at the crime lord in response, narrowing his eyes suspiciously.

            No one had cared enough to ask him about his name in years. To his “clients” and the staff around him, he was property, an object in every sense of the word. He wasn’t human. He had no identity here, not a name, not a title, not even a number… His name didn’t matter anymore, so why was his handsome captor asking for it?

            He honestly didn’t even remember what had possessed him in that moment, but the young man found himself giving in without a second thought, his name slithering free from the imprisonment of dry, chapped lips.

            His rough, raspy voice nearly killed Reyes right there.

            “Scott,” the stranger breathed, his volume rising no higher than a whisper. “My name’s Scott Ryder.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, yeah, guess who put a shitload of self-indulgent cameos into this chapter. *raises hand guiltily*
> 
> But I like this direction. I feel like an Earthborn, Renegade Shepard works so well in this setting. I couldn't resist.
> 
> Also, human Garrus. Enough said.
> 
> Don't be afraid to leave comments and feedback, and thanks for all of the kudos and hits that this has already gotten. I see you guys, too, and I appreciate you all. <3


	3. Come With Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The team manages to get Scott and the others out of the facility.
> 
> Now, all Reyes has to do is convince Scott to come back to Miami with him.
> 
> Too bad everything's easier said than done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew! This one turned out WAY longer than expected. I had more plot planned for this chapter, but it was getting a bit too long for my tastes.
> 
> I also had planned on doing a double post, but life happened and I've been way busier than expected and probably will be until Sunday.
> 
> Still, since I like this story personally, I'll do my best to start on the next chapter as soon as I'm able to. 
> 
> CHAPTER WARNINGS: Human & Drug Trafficking, Forced Prostitution, References to Underage Prostitution (Not Explicit)

            “Scott,” Reyes repeated dumbly, the name flowing off of his tongue like a warm stream of caramel, sticky and sweet and sugary. Such a common name for someone so breathtaking. Reyes swallowed thickly, faltering between helping the man up and giving him space. “Think you can stand on your own?”

            Regarding him for a long second, Scott nodded helplessly, as if he wasn’t quite convinced himself but would stubbornly see how things played out on his own.

            Sliding to the edge of the cot, Reyes scrambled back while the younger man warily touched the soles of his feet to the ground. Once they settled flat against the cold floor, he stood on shaky legs. A sharp gasp instantly escaped when his vision swam, legs buckling underneath him, pain ricocheting in his lower half. It was too much, too soon, and Scott saw the world topple for a brief moment.

            Rushing back into Scott’s space, Reyes caught him before he fell. A wide, naked expanse of skin was plastered to Reyes’ front, and the effect on him was instant. Even through the armor, everywhere pale skin touched rough material, a catastrophic explosion went off beneath Reyes’ skin. Through the relentless heat, his poor, pounding heart demanded more, selfish as it was. It was willing to tear itself to shreds for this man, rip itself apart and bleed itself dry for one more touch, but it would always be “one more.” There would never be enough.

            This was all so disorienting for Reyes. It was like he was that punk kid again, from years ago, taking and taking, unwilling to entertain any other desire but his own. While he still maintained some degree of greed, his years have taught him that practicality and usefulness had to have their say as well. As much as some part of him craved that youthful impulsiveness, he knew that that flaw would be something that could get him killed in his line of work.

            But it was like all of that restraint went to Hell when faced with Scott Ryder.

            His hands lingered over the frail body, wanting to grab and to claim, but Reyes knew better. As much as his insides were clawing at him in fury, Reyes refused to force himself on anyone, and the younger man had presumably been through enough.

            Tapping his wrist, Scott called his attention back, breaking him from his rattled thoughts.

            “Set—” Scott closed his eyes to try and stop the spinning, attempting to control his wheezing breaths. “Set me down. H-Help the others.”

            The others… That’s right. Reyes could’ve punched himself in the face for forgetting where they were, looking around at the frightened expressions in the room. There were twenty-four cells in total, but only nine were still occupied with the living. Fifteen housed dead bodies, all shot down in cold blood. If Reyes had been a second later…

            No, he wouldn’t think on that, he told himself.

            Looking back to Scott, an overwhelming blossom of protectiveness bloomed in his chest, twisting and twining into a gnarled tangle, refusing to abate in the slightest. Although he knew that he had to, Reyes didn’t want to leave Scott’s side. His mind and his heart were both stubbornly holding onto the notion that Scott was _his._ He shouldn’t be leaving him alone like this, hurt and battered. He should be finding Scott help.

            Taking a deep breath to steady himself, Reyes forced himself to follow Scott’s orders. Helping him back on the dirty cot, Reyes waited until he was stable before he went to work, unlocking and opening the other cells for the remaining eight survivors.

            Upon freeing the last person, an incomprehensibly young boy with tears and snot staining his face, Reyes ignored the acidic churning in his gut when the boy —soaked in his own piss— latched onto Reyes’ leg thankfully. Steeling himself, beating down all of those useless emotions, Reyes promised himself that he would have time to sort through those feelings.

            Later, of course. For now, he distantly comforted the boy, just as Shepard entered the room.

            Appraising the situation, Reyes watched while the man set his jaw, eyes blazing, nostrils flaring. All of the victims remained at equidistance from each other, distrustful and afraid, watching everyone in the room with suspicious eyes.

            _This is going to be a long night,_ Reyes thought tiredly, patting the young boy’s head when he began to whimper at Shepard’s appearance, ducking his face into Reyes’ leg. Locking eyes with Reyes, Shepard made his way over with heavy strides.

            “Called in a friend to help with an armed escort. He’ll be here in a minute or two. Tali and the others found some towels and blankets to give them. Not much clothes lying around here,” Shepard reported tensely. Reyes’ eyes darted to where Scott was, only to find the man’s eyes already trained on him and Shepard, watching through the bars of his cage.

            “Where are you taking them?”

            “A shelter. _My_ shelter. They’ll be safe there, until we can get them back home, at least.”

            Reyes turned back to John, raising a questioning brow, because both men knew exactly what type of people were used for this sordid business. The abandoned, the homeless, the desperate, the unwanted… People that others gave no second glance to. People that no one would miss, were they to go missing.

            “And,” Reyes drawled curiously, “if they have _no_ home to go back to…?”

            John glared at him for even implying that he hadn’t considered such a thing. “Then, the shelter will help them out as much as we can. School, jobs, whatever it takes to keep them off the streets.”

            “Just checking,” Reyes sighed, pointedly glancing down at the child attached to his leg. He was still watching Shepard cautiously, but his grip on Reyes’ leg had eased up, at least. Shepard noticed and bent down to eye-level.

            “Hey, there,” Shepard whispered, gaze softening. Wide, dark eyes watched him blankly.  “Do you have a name?” The boy continued to stare. “Okay… Can you understand me?” More silence and staring. Then, finally, a tiny nod. “Alright, can you speak?” A shake of his head. Small, pudgy fingers tapped on his throat in explanation. “That’s fine, then. We can talk just like this. Do you have any parents or family?” Another shake. Shepard hesitates on his next question, but decides to ask anyway. “Do you know how old you are?” The boy nods and holds up both hands in explanation.

            Six fingers greet their eyes.

            Reyes’ stomach feels as if it’s about to force its way from his throat, and Shepard looks no better at the time. Erasing all emotion from his face, Shepard composes himself and continues to question the boy, coaxing him from Reyes’ side.

            Soon, the boy has left Reyes completely to latch similarly onto John’s leg, and Shepard entertains him way better than Reyes ever could.

            The Charlatan wasn’t too great with kids, anyways.

            The rest of Shepard’s team eventually makes it there with blankets and water to pass around, each member explaining to the survivors what would happen next. They give them the choice to go to the shelter, promising that they would do nothing against their will. If they wished, they could leave now and hear no complaint.

            A few of the older ones actually do leave, but that was the world that they had lived in. “Shelters,” in their generation, were the exact traps that brought them to facilities like these. Those sweet promises meant nothing to them anymore, and they would rather face the world on their own again.

            Understandable as that was, Reyes couldn’t take the risk on one person, in particular. He managed to snag a bottle of water and a blanket without much fuss, making his way over to Scott. The younger man had watched him all the while, accepting his peace offerings when he settled in at his side, a noticeable amount of space resting between their bodies. Watching Scott wrap himself up, gulping thirstily from the bottle, Reyes was the first to break the quiet.

            “By now, I’m guessing that you’ve overheard the plan,” Reyes assumed. Scott nodded hesitantly, his eyes leaving Reyes’ to flicker around the room’s other occupants. “I’m surprised that you’ve stayed. Most of the older ones already left.”

            “Most of the ‘older ones’ know that we’re walking into our death either way, should this turn out to be a trap,” Scott remarked. “If they want to die, they want to do so on their terms, but I’m tired of surviving out there. Hell, just living in general. I don’t care how, when, or where I die, but something —something _foolish_ — inside of me thinks that you’re telling the truth. That you guys actually want to help us.”

            Ignoring Scott’s bite at his own life, Reyes replied, “Probably because we _are_ telling the truth. Whether you believe it or not, we’re doing our best to help, however we can.”

            Scott shook his head pigheadedly, chuckling darkly. “Now, whoever you are—”

            “Reyes Vidal,” he introduced, holding his hand out to shake.

            Befuddled, Scott stared at the appendage skeptically, as if it would venomously lash out and bite him at any moment. His head still spun a bit, and his heart and mind were torn in two over this man. Savior or no, his very presence here linked him to the underground someway, somehow, and that wasn’t something to be taken lightly. If only his racing heart could understand such a concept…

            “Well, _Reyes…_ ” Scott thoughtfully chewed on the name, disregarding the handshake entirely, burrowing further into his flimsy blanket. “…I think we both understand that our world simply doesn’t work like that. No one offers anything out of the kindness of their own heart. Everything in this world comes with a price.”

            “How pessimistic,” Reyes stated.

            “How realistic,” Scott argued.

            “Well, then,” Reyes hummed inquisitively, a sudden idea popping into his mind, one that would ensure that Scott remained at his side, “what if there wasn’t only two outcomes to this situation?”

            “What do you mean?” Scott huffed, eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

            “You say that you have two options on the table, at this point. Either you go to the shelter, or you go back to the streets. You’ve already established that you didn’t want to go back, so I have an alternative to the shelter. One that’s merely ‘from the kindness of my own heart.’”

            “Yeah,” Scott scoffed, “and —for some reason— I have a feeling that this isn’t as selfless as you’re making it out to be.”

            “Well…” Reyes smirked. “…that’s because it’s not. I always have a method behind my madness, though.”

             “Oh? Then, pray tell, what could you possibly want with me?” Scott sniffed. “Want some whore to parade around for you and be your personal servant? Because, if that’s it, I think I’ll take my chances with this shelter.”

            Reyes’ blood started to simmer at that insinuation, but it surprised him that he was more angered on Scott’s behalf. Those self-deprecating words settled like a rock in Reyes’ gut, and they tested his temper indefinitely more than the attack on Reyes personally. For some reason beyond his understanding, Reyes was dead-set on the idea of protecting this man, even if it meant protecting him from himself.

            “You’re not—” Reyes let out a frustrated breath, bringing a hand up to knead his fingers into his throbbing temple, moving to clasp at the bridge of his nose. Eventually, he turned his burning gold eyes back on Scott, his tone leaving no room for argument. “You’re _not_ a whore. You’re free. You’re free, and you’re alive, and you’re…”

            He struggled for words, wondering who he was really trying to reassure here. Scott averted his eyes, curling in on himself self-consciously while his face heated up. Reyes decided to damn the consequences and take the leap.

            “Scott, come with me.”

*****

            It felt like Scott couldn’t breathe. Despite the water he had recently chugged, his mouth ran desert-dry, his thick tongue sticking to the roof of his mouth. This man, this _stranger_ , had just offered him the unfathomable. Scott had insinuated this being the third outcome, with sleazy intentions, but it was still difficult to wrap his mind around the idea at all.

            Outside of sex, no one —not even his own family— had wanted him around. How could this man be any different? He had admitted to having an ulterior motive, but to what extent?

            “Come with you where?” Scott whispered at his hands, shoulders hunching over his frame protectively. Fiddling with the water, he resisted the urge to wrap his arms around himself. After all, this was no environment for weakness.

            “Back to my home. In Miami,” Reyes clarified, fighting his own battle for control, restricting himself from reaching out to the shaken man.

            “Why?” Scott growled. “I still don’t understand the ‘why’ part. You underground types can have whoever you want, whenever you want, so why me?” Scott’s face crumbled, and he looked determinedly towards the stone wall when his eyes started to burn. His tears had long since run dry, yet this man was toeing his limits from one, single meeting. Scott refused to give him that privilege. It wasn’t his to take. “Why take a broken man, when you have the whole world at your feet?”

            “To help put him back together,” Reyes answered honestly, wanting nothing more than to grab Scott’s hand and hold on for eternity, to erase all of that self-doubt that had been engrained through force. “Because, even in pieces, he’s worth much more than that world.”

            Scott laughed in disbelief, shaking his head at the wall. “You don’t even know me.”

            “I want to.”

            “I don’t need your ‘help,’” Scott spat hatefully, changing tactics. It did little to dissuade Reyes, however.

            “I never said that you needed anything from me. I’m offering this to you, because there’s something about you that I can’t turn away from. I’m not doing this out of pity or guilt. I’m doing this because I saw you, and I knew that I couldn’t just turn away and leave you behind.”

            “I don’t know what you want me to say.”

            “Nothing. You don’t owe me anything, but I had to try. Think on it some more, if you want. We still have to swing by the shelter. You can decide then.”

            When he was met with silence, Reyes got up and walked away in a huff of disappointment and rejection, the cot’s creaking the only thing to signal his departure to Scott. Turning away from the wall, Scott rose onto his unsteady feet, succeeding at the new attempt to maintain his balance. Faltering on his weak limbs, his mind spun in a whirlwind of activity, both wanting the man to leave and needing him to come back. Grumbling under his breath, Scott exited the cage and avoided the others, skittishly skirting around them, keeping the man —Reyes— in his sights.

            _He saved me,_ Scott reasoned, watching as Reyes approached the man from before. The leader, from the looks of things. From the way he carried himself to the way he barked out orders this way and that. He was the one that their youngest worker had taken a liking to, loyally following behind. _It only makes sense to be a little curious._

_And a little jealous,_ his mind intoned sarcastically.

            Dismissing the wayward thought, Scott attentively watched the two men interact together. While his mind acknowledged their casual demeanor with each other, hinting at nothing intimate or romantic at all, something in his chest refused to see reason. Prickles of heat clashed in his veins, and he wouldn’t be surprised if his face had turned green with envy. He couldn’t help but wonder at the endless “what if’s” circulating throughout the room, and it was about to drive him insane.

            One thing he was sure of…

            Reyes Vidal had no idea what he was asking for.

*****

            Reyes had only been talking to Shepard for a couple of minutes when their comms flared to life, another person tuning in to their private channel.

            “Shepard,” his contact greeted cheerfully, his guttural voice sounding old and worn.

            Reyes knew better than to let that fool him.

            “Wrex,” Shepard greeted in response. “Nice to have you here.”

            _Idiotic to have you here,_ Reyes thought, but he respected John enough to have faith in his competence. Besides, this was _his_ mission, in the end, and Reyes wasn’t the one calling the shots.

            He just hadn’t expected _this_ to be their plan for an escort.

            While the Clans were isolated from the syndicates and the gangs, Reyes supposed that they were still a crucial part of the underground. Mostly consisting of mercs, ex-military, and ex-felons, they had no real loyalties, but to their Clans. The Clan was family to them, their first priority. Most weren’t connected by blood at all, but that made little difference in the strength of their forged bond.

            For some, their main investment was for the survival and the future of the Clan. For others, they were just as invested in the civil war as the syndicates were.

            No matter which side they were on, however, most Clans were reliable to be out for some money and a good fight. These were the hired muscle for the syndicates’ ground wars. They were the last resort before territory was lost to a rival, having no more of your own people to sacrifice for that space, without giving up security in another. The Clans were a strategic use of outside forces, one that could mean victory or defeat, but that wasn’t what bothered Reyes about them.

            No, it was how easily their loyalty could be sold out that disturbed him.

            Reyes had heard of Urdnot, of course. They were one of the largest Clans —if not, _the_ largest— in America, but, down South, the syndicates mainly dealt with the Nakmor Clan.

            Obviously, Reyes had his fair share of battles with each. While both contained formidable warriors, Reyes himself had never used their services. He had no need to, thankfully. Not yet, at least.

            But, of course, John would be the one to befriend someone from Urdnot. And, not just any someone at that, but the leader himself.

            “Why does it always feel like we’re picking up after your mess, Shepard?” the elder grunted in faux irritation.

            “Because you are, but you love my money too much to say ‘no,’” Shepard laughed. “Don’t worry, we’ll have your cut ready. I’ll even throw in something for Eve and the kids.”

            “I remember when things were simpler, when we only had to deal with Saren and his puny gang, instead of the entire Cerberus syndicate,” Wrex huffed.

            “You remind me, as if you’re not profiting,” Shepard retorted.

            “You’re never that ready to pay me,” Joker interrupted, sighing dramatically into the comms.

            “Maybe, he would be, if you did your job without complaining so much,” Garrus snorted.

            “Joker, stop complaining?” Tali chuckled. “Yeah, that’ll be the day.”

            “The day that Hell freezes over,” Jane adds, smirking.

            “I’m not the one escorting the survivors to the shelter. I’ll leave you ungrateful pricks to rot in that facility. See if I care,” Joker grumbled. Reyes and John exchanged an eye roll.

            “Is everything ready for the escort out there, or not?” Shepard asked.

            “Ready when you are,” Wrex answered. “Just waiting on Joker to quit his bitching.”

            “Sounds like we’ll be waiting awhile then,” Reyes sniffed.

            “Look, you guys even have the outsider joining in. I need to find a new job,” Joker complained. “Ready when you are, Shep.”

            “We’ll be out in a sec,” Shepard said, ducking down to pick up the boy that was perched on his leg.

            In response, the area was instantly a flurry of activity on Shepard’s word, he and his crew starting to herd the people from the room. Others, from his more extensive circle of contacts, would be pouring in after their departure to investigate more.

            After the roar of movement started up, Reyes immediately started looking for Scott, only to have the man fall back to his side. Startled by the all of the commotion, Scott reached out and grabbed onto whatever piece of Reyes’ armor that he could cling to, watching the others dizzily.

            “Miss me?” Reyes asked, receiving a glare in response.

            “If you’re serious about what you said, you’ll make sure that I’m riding with you to this shelter,” Scott snapped, tension stiffening his spine as he regarded the others.

            There were only five left to escort, including Scott, after the others had left, but Scott didn’t want to take any chances. Reyes noticed how he was growing tenser and tenser as the seconds flew by, so he couldn’t help but to ask about it.

            “Are you okay?”

            “’M fine,” Scott grumbled, trying to hide his shock at being asked after. The stampede of footsteps drowned out their words in the cavernous hallway, but Scott knew that they wouldn’t have long before everyone had to board an elevator. Scott’s stomach rolled at the idea of being crowded with other people. “I simply don’t trust anyone in this facility as far as I could throw them.”

            “Yet, you come to me,” Reyes mentioned warily.

            “Because you saved me,” Scott reminded him. “That sets you out, but not by much. I still have some questions.”

            “Of course you do,” Reyes sighed.

            They fell silent as they piled into the elevator, Scott’s grasp tightening impossibly more, his skin turning white as it was stretched tautly over his knuckles. When they entered the tight quarters, he buried his face into Reyes’ shoulder, closing his eyes to keep the panic at bay. Reyes, thankfully, kept his hands to himself and let Scott cling as much as he needed to.

            Relatively, the spacious elevator shouldn’t have felt as packed as it did, but Scott felt as if the walls were closing in from all sides. Beating down the suffocating sensations, he ignored Shepard’s hawk-like gaze, trained on him and Reyes critically.

            As soon as they got off, they strolled through the first floor, in all of its demolished glory. It was clear that it had taken a great deal of damage from the fight, and Scott was glad to see it in such a state. Giddy glee raced through his veins at the sight, and he couldn’t stop a small grin from forming.

            “Nice work,” he complimented Reyes in a low murmur. The older man looked around to what he saw and shrugged nonchalantly.

            “Not one of my best pieces,” Reyes replied jokingly, watching while Shepard approached Wrex at the wrecked entrance. Past him and the hulking man, Reyes could see Shepard’s personal escort awaiting him, followed by a line of three, top-tier, military-grade vehicles. They were all painted pitch black, the windows tinted to match, with red designs and patterns to signify their Urdnot connection.

            “You never did give me an answer earlier,” Scott muttered, putting a bit more distance between their bodies, now that they were out in the open. Only a single hand held on now, alighting Reyes’ skin in fire. He wouldn’t be surprised to find some burns, left behind by Scott’s touch, later.

            “What was the question again?”

            “I asked to ride to the shelter with you.”

            “More like you demanded,” Reyes huffed in defense. Scott scowled.

            “It’s a simple ‘yes’ or ‘no,’ Reyes. I just—” Scott paused, avoiding eye contact. “Never mind.”

            “What?” When he received no answer, Reyes sighed. “Scott—”

            “I just didn’t want you to leave me behind,” Scott admitted insecurely, focusing on the ground, kicking his bare feet at nothing.

            It wasn’t like anyone ever wanted him.

            “I’m not— I won’t do that,” Reyes stumbled ineloquently.

            _We’ll see,_ Scott thought solemnly, right as Shepard gave everyone the go-ahead to load up into their appointed vehicles.

            When Reyes brought Scott along to the van, the Commander raised an incredulous, enraged brow. Lips thinning, lest Shepard should say something unsavory to the Charlatan, he allowed it with a frustrated silence. The last thing Shepard wanted was to scare off the man and the kid, after all they’ve been through, but John couldn’t help but to wonder what Reyes wanted with one of his citizens.

            Once he saw Shepard’s and Reyes’ tagalongs, however, Joker just couldn’t keep his mouth shut.

            “Didn’t know I was running a taxi service, Shep,” Joker deadpanned.

            “You are if I say you are,” Shepard snipped shortly, the unnamed boy cuddling under his chin, Shepard’s eyes never once leaving Reyes and Scott.

            Sensing the underlying turmoil, Reyes resisted the urge to hug Scott to his body possessively, settling on glowering defiantly at the other syndicate boss.

            “Geez, who pissed in your cereal this morning?” Joker mumbled, putting the van into drive. As soon as Wrex confirmed over the comms that everything was secured, they set out.

            Shepard said nothing in response for the rest of the ride, his crew eyeing him and Reyes shiftily, but neither man would let up in this staring contest of theirs. Something unspoken was occurring between them, and Reyes was dreading the conversation that was to come.

            Rocketing tension aside, everything else appeared to go smoothly on the ride over. Besides a few armed stragglers in the streets, easily taken care of, there wasn’t much action to deal with, something that Wrex complained non-stop about for the continuation of the drive. Still, in a situation like this, it was better to be safe than sorry.

            Once they made it to the entrance of the hospital-like building, as pristine and clean and massive as it was, they all poured out into the streets and into the facility as swiftly as possible.

            A woman was already waiting for them at the front desk, gushing busily over her computers to access the processing system. She barely spared them a glance, tucking a black strand of hair behind her ear. Joker rustled his way through the minor crowd on his creaky legs, hobbling his way around the desk, taking off his hat like the gentleman he was and kissing the indifferent woman affectionately on the cheek. While she didn’t reply, a tiny smile quirked at the corner of her mouth before her expression settled back into its smooth, emotionless planes.

            “Thanks for coming in so late, Edi,” Joker whispered, lathering her cheek in several more, persistent kisses. She gave a quiet “Jeff” in response, shouldering the beaming, besotted man off to do her work.

            “Come on, Joker, let the woman work,” Shepard tittered lightheartedly. “We have five new ones to get through processing, Edi. Is Karin here?”

            “ _Doctor Chakwas_ is here, and she’s ready for the first patient,” Edi informed him, ensuring to emphasize the doctor’s title for Shepard. Not like it would do much good.

            “Alright, let’s get this little guy checked out first,” Shepard instructed, registering the boy under “John Doe” for now, walking him back to the clinical area while the others set to work on assisting the remaining survivors. Seating them in the waiting room’s nearby chairs, the crew did their best to answer any questions that they had.

            Once Scott received his blank interface, the file prepped and readied on a tablet, he was hyperaware of Reyes’ eyes, watching his every move. Tapping the stylus pen against the tablet’s frame, Scott bit into his lip nervously, setting the datapad aside on an empty chair.

            “Do you think that this doctor can see me next?” Scott asked hesitantly, hugging his blanket to himself. Reyes glanced into his eyes, various questions swirling around in those molten, golden depths.

            “What’s wrong?” Reyes said, his hand jerking out without permission, stopping itself mid-air to hover protectively over Scott’s shoulder. Reluctantly, Reyes withdrew, scrutinizing Scott for any signs of external injuries.

            Shrugging, Scott stated, “You were there. You had to free me. Why did you think they had me bound like that?”

            “So, they—”

            “I had a client today, if that’s what you’re going to ask, and she didn’t exactly make things easy on me,” Scott mumbled bitterly.

            Reyes clenched and unclenched his fists for a minute or two, merely soaking that in. He did his best to keep his expression neutral, his temper suppressed. Good thing that the perfect distraction came when the door to the clinic opened up. Relieved, Reyes jumped up from his seat, dragging Scott along, stumbling right up to Shepard and the kid.

            “Scott needs to see the doctor next,” Reyes demanded, uncaring as to whether he was being rude or not. Scott was in pain, and that’s all Reyes’ mind could focus on, outside of the infuriating fact that someone would dare hurt him in the first place.

            “Does he, now?” Shepard asked, quirking a brow at the cowering man. Scott peeked out at the Commander from behind Reyes’ body, furrowing his own brows at the Renegade curiously. “Fine, he can go in. _Alone_.”

            “No,” Scott growled, surprising everyone —including himself— with the resolute decisiveness seeping through his tone. “Reyes comes in there with me, or I don’t go in at all.” Feeling as if he needed to clarify, he continued. “I don’t trust doctors.”

            _But, you trust_ him _?_ Shepard thought in bewilderment, eyes flickering between the pair suspiciously.

            Silently appraising the situation, Shepard nodded at the couple in approval, his free hand snapping out to block Reyes’ path when both moved to enter the clinic.

            “He can go, but I need to have a quick word with him first. If you don’t mind, of course,” Shepard stated tersely. Scott and Reyes exchanged a loaded glance before Scott nodded, locking eyes with Shepard before he entered the cool, sterilized room.

            Once Scott was gone, Shepard placed his new friend down onto the floor, clad in one of the cheap, scrub-like uniforms that they kept well-stocked. Shepard told him to go wait at the desk with Edi and Joker, and the boy gave an obedient nod, running away in his newly-supplied shoes.

            As soon as he was out of sight, Shepard stood and turned on Reyes.

            “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” John spat. At his tone, Reyes bristled defensively.

            “I don’t know what you mean,” Reyes evaded, meeting John’s eyes unwaveringly.

            “You know damn well what I’m talking about, Vidal. What are you playing at? I didn’t save these people, only to have you to try and take advantage of one.”

            “Good thing that I’m not taking advantage, then. You know that I tolerate slavery and trafficking just as much as you do,” Reyes reminded him.

            “Then, he’s staying at the shelter, right?” Shepard pressed, hitting that exact nerve that had Reyes’ skin tingling uncertainly.

            “Hopefully not.”

            “What does that mean?”

            “Exactly what I said,” Reyes retorted, his thread of patience thinning. “I offered him a home in Miami. I’m hoping that he chooses to take said offer.”

            Shepard guffawed at that, his laughter bleak and mirthless. “Let me guess. This ‘home’ just so happens to be yours, correct?” When his only response was Reyes’ challenging glare, Shepard shook his head at the other man. “What are you thinking, Vidal?”

            “It’s not like I’m dragging him away, kicking and screaming,” Reyes defended. “If he comes, that’s of his own choice.”

            “Huh,” Shepard snorted, looking Reyes up and down in bemusement, “I guess that I never took you as the type to take in strays, Vidal.”

            “Hmm…” Reyes hummed, eyes flashing in warning. “And I didn’t take you for the type that would go for some idealistic, goody two-shoes politician, _Shepard_.” The Commander tensed at that, spine as stiff as a board. Reyes smirked viciously, backing him right into the corner where he wanted him. Interesting what sort of wayward information floated across his desk at times… “He really doesn’t seem like the type that would agree with our line of work, so I’m wondering exactly how much he really knows about you, John.” Shepard’s jaw set, audibly grinding his teeth. “Oh, well, it’s always peculiar how these things work out. What was that Canadian ambassador’s name again?” Reyes smirked cockily, watching Shepard’s eyes harden into steel, and Reyes knew that he was testing the man’s limits. Too bad he couldn’t find it in himself to care. Shepard should know, by now, that Reyes Vidal could give as much as he could take. “Ah, that’s right. His name is Alenko, correct?”

            Biting his tongue until blood flooded his mouth, Shepard glowered at Reyes for a heated moment. Eventually, a wicked, devilish grin spread across his face, and he gave the Charlatan a shake of his head, followed by an amused chuckle.

            “Touché,” Shepard purred, walking sluggishly forward until he was standing at Reyes’ side. His hand reached up and clasped his partner’s shoulder companionably, their words low enough, meant only for their ears. “But, just a bit of warning, _Charlatan_.” Shepard’s hand unexpectedly heaved down then, squeezing with an unmatched, inhuman strength. For Reyes’ part, he didn’t move at all, didn’t even make a peep, but he knew that there would be an ugly bruise to deal with later. “If I ever hear you so much as mention him again, make no mistake about it. I. Will. End. You.”

            “Then, I believe that we _both_ understand where we stand on these… sensitive matters,” Reyes explained, eyes trailing pointedly to the room that Scott had disappeared in.

            Shepard didn’t have to look to understand. Easing up on his grip, he patted Reyes’ shoulder and dropped his hand back to his side, as if the past few moments never even occurred.

            “Agreed,” Shepard acknowledged, ready to move onto more important issues. “Go ahead and go in there. I can’t stop you or him from doing this. Honestly, it’s none of my business, as long as he’s willing, but I’ll make sure that any follow-up leads or intel on that facility is forwarded to you. Archer’s still gone, and we still have a ton of Oblivion outside of Outcast territory.”

            “Another fun day at the office,” Reyes sighed.

            “Yeah, if only,” Shepard grumbled. The Commander walked away in a blatant sign of dismissal, his new shadow latching onto his leg as soon as he got within range of the desk.

            Shaking his head at the display, Reyes turned on his heel and marched into the patient’s room. Stepping over the threshold, his senses were instantly assaulted by the sharp scent of disinfectant and hand sanitizer. All around him, the area glowed from the bright, overhead lights. The blindingly white room was starting to hurt his eyes a bit, but he would gladly suffer such a minor offense to ensure Scott’s comfort.

            _What little that there is, apparently,_ Reyes thought when he noticed the other man in the room.

            Curled up on the lumpy examination table, paper crinkling noisily beneath him, Scott had brought his legs up to his chest, his chin resting on his knees. Huddling the thin blanket around his shivering body, he blinked and squinted past the bright lights at Reyes’ entrance. An unbidden smile teased at the corner of his lips, and he had to persistently remind himself that Reyes wasn’t _his_ to smile at like that. The man shouldn’t possess the ability to invoke these swarms of emotions, but Scott felt powerless to resist.

            Before either could get a word out, however, the doctor walked in and gave Reyes a judgmental look, pursing her lips in consternation as he made his way over to Scott’s side. Reyes’ fingers briefly twitched, brushing the edge of the table, itching to tug Scott’s hand into his. The shrewd, wizened, older woman caught onto the slight movement, but she made no comment about it.

            Approaching Scott, she observed him while he observed her. He tightened his embrace on his legs, feeling the room drop several degrees around him.

            “Are you Scott Ryder?” the doctor asked gently, careful to keep her space.

            Gulping, he nodded, one of his hands darting out to snatch at Reyes’ wrist. The older man startled in bewilderment but refused to pull away, even when Scott’s nails began to pierce into his skin. Red rivulets of blood started to course down his brown wrist, but Reyes merely kept his attention on the woman before them.

            Dr. Chakwas made a note in Scott’s chart, following up with a litany of other questions: Scott’s age, his date of birth, his Social Security Number, and so many other inquiries about who Scott was in a legal, professional sense.

            While Reyes desired to delve deeper than that superficial surface, he made mental notes for every response that Scott gave, nevertheless.

            Reyes wanted to know all of him, inside and out.

            At this point, he would take whatever he could get.

            Everything had been going well up to that moment. Dr. Chakwas had only started performing basic routines, recording his vitals and testing an array of motor and neural functions. So far, for all intents and purposes, everything was checking out okay. The main thing she had brought their attention to was the fact that he was malnourished and dehydrated, continuously urging Scott to ease back into a larger diet. Despite the temptation to do otherwise, she stressed the fact that his stomach couldn’t handle a larger quantity of food, and it would be best to avoid anything greasy or rich. It was all easy enough to remember, and Scott had even started to relax a bit. Besides Reyes’ dread over the impending rape evaluation, everything had been going perfectly fine.

            That was until she brought the needle out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the hits and kudos, by the way! And don't be afraid to comment. I love hearing from you all, and I'll always try to make time to respond. <3
> 
> P.S. I hope nobody was coming into this, expecting straight smut or something, because I'm trying to build from Scott's background realistically, and he's not going to simply hop into Reyes' bed after years of sustained raped, love at first sight or not. 
> 
> That's just an FYI. I'll consider adding a slow burn tag. Maybe. We'll see how things unfold from here.
> 
> Hope everyone enjoyed the update!


	4. I Can't Stay Here

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scott's appointment takes a turn for the worst.
> 
> At this point, he's just ready to leave all of this behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm upset that I haven't gotten this chapter out earlier. Either I had writer's block, or something came up, but better late than never, I guess. I'm happy that I finally managed to spit it out.
> 
> Anyways, enjoy!
> 
> CHAPTER WARNINGS: Non-con Drug Use, Mentions of Sexual Slavery/Forced Prostitution, Drug & Sex Trafficking

            Scott certainly didn’t expect this to happen. He hadn’t expected that one, tiny needle to be the thing that tipped him over the edge today.

            To be fair to Dr. Chakwas, she had done everything right on her part. She had always made sure that Scott was as comfortable as possible, and she had never made a move towards him without his verbal consent. She had even warned him about the needle beforehand, had told him that she wished to do some blood work and take a few more scans before they moved on to the “hard stuff.”

            Foolishly, Scott had told her that it was fine with him, had been fully set on believing that everything would _be_ fine, watching closely as she pulled out the seemingly insignificant tool. The bright lights in the room had glinted off of the metallic point menacingly, and Scott’s stomach had roiled at the sight, his body cringing when an unwanted wave of icy fear flooded his throat, drowning him in fright. Images flashed before his eyes, and he was helpless to stop them.

            Dissociated and confused, his heart started fluttering at an abnormally rapid pace, beating against his chest with savage fists, wanting to physically tear apart his ribcage and break free of its imprisonment. Viciously, the relentless feeling continued on until he was left feeling breathless and winded.

            _Laughs circled around him, mocking and sneering, and Scott felt as if he was simultaneously watching and reliving the moment at once. Through a thick, murky fog, all that he could clearly see was himself, the silhouettes of unidentifiable people dancing merrily in the shadows._

_His wrists and ankles were bound to a freezing, metallic table, his neck having been strapped down tightly after the agents realized that he was a “biter.” The way that they spat the word still made Scott unbearably ill, as if they couldn’t truly comprehend why their newest addition wasn’t willingly presenting himself to them._

_“Oh, well,” they would chortle, sadistic grins stretched across an endless amount of faces, all blurred and forgotten from the passage of time and the flow of drugs. The words fluidly wove in and out of Scott’s ears, echoing impossibly loud, the agents’ voices unidentifiable. “It’s always more fun to break them in. Better to train them ourselves. After all, most buyers love it when their whores are obedient. Wonder how much the boss will put on his price tag. Fool, no one would buy something as hideous as that. He would do better at the facility, make us more cash that way. ‘S not like anyone would want to take it home. Could you imagine it? A slave? Don’t be foolish…”_

Shut up, _Scott thought, wanting to tug at his hair until the pain brought him back. This wasn’t real. It wasn’t real, but Scott couldn’t stop the voices. They continued on into their endless ramblings, but he couldn’t move. His body wasn’t his, lost to the memory before him._

            Shut up, shut up, shut up… _Scott’s chest was feeling as if someone had buried him alive, tons and tons of sand packed on top of him, suffocating him, forcing his chest to cave in on itself._

_Why couldn’t he breathe?_

SHUT UP! _Scott mentally roared, hoping to, at the least, drown out the voices from the sheer volume alone._

_It did little good, in the end, and Scott eventually allowed himself to sink into his mind’s darkness. He simply knew what he had to do, trapped as he was._

_The only way out of his psyche was through this memory. It was one he was well-acquainted with, one that was from years ago, right after he was abducted and thrown into that god-forsaken facility._

_At the time, Scott was still that young man that had some fight left in him, was still the guy that idiotically hoped to one day be free of those pathetic wastes of space. He had tried, again and again, to fight his way out when they took him out of his cage, no matter how temporary. His dad had been special ops, after all, and_ _—if he did nothing else for Scott_ _— he had personally ensured that Scott and Sara were trained in hand-to-hand combat._

_Fat lot of good that had been. What, with Scott being constantly outnumbered and extremely weaponless._

_Nevertheless, his pointless fighting managed to provide him with the only source of satisfaction in his entire stay. Because, back then, that was when he actually maimed and harmed his captors, succeeding in taking down a few of them along the way._

_However, Scott should’ve known that those little stunts wouldn’t last long. He was only drawing attention to himself, fanning the flames of their ire, and the agents took him to the training room the first chance they got._

_When he failed to respond to their milder forms of torture, though, they weren’t afraid to take things a step further. The thing is, these Cerberus agents didn’t have a finish line waiting for them. There were no limits. There was no ending. All they had to do was keep Scott alive at the end of the day, unless they were willing to pay all of the money invested in him, along with any fees that would build to replace him. Otherwise, they had free reign._

_And they loved to get creative with the rebellious ones, loved watching that last flicker of light leave their eyes as they crushed their spirit, grinding it under their tyrannical shoes until nothing but dust was left. In this particular instance, Scott hadn’t been at that point…_

_But he soon would be._

_That was the first time when they had introduced the drugs. What it was that they gave him, he couldn’t tell you. They kept a whole lot of things under lock and key, and Scott wouldn’t be surprised if they didn’t know themselves. Sometimes, just to get a kick out of it, they would ask their facility’s “pharmacist” to mix up something special for them._

_He remembered that day being particularly worse than the others. He remembered giving his strongest fight that day, critically injuring one or two of their agents, and he remembered getting beaten on site for that transgression. He remembered blow upon blow that they laid on his body in the aftermath, those certain parts of his memory being impossible to forget. He remembered them restraining him, dragging him to the training room for his first session. Unknown agents aside, he remembers that day’s events too well._

_He wishes he could forget._

_Hands and feet tugging recklessly at the cuffs, Scott writhes and yells and swears with all of his might, his body helplessly arching away from the table’s clutches. Each snatch of his wrists and ankles scraped against the delicate skin, and each lift of his head was mercilessly choking him, the bonds pulling tight against the resistance, yanking Scott’s head and limbs back with a powerful snap._

_A door opened and closed nearby, and two faceless agents entered the room, one setting to work on fixing another restraint over Scott’s abdomen. Tightening it, ignoring his snarling struggles, the agent fastened him in until he had no slack to move his body under._

_Allowing their partner to work, the other agent strolled around the table sluggishly, poking and prodding at his leisure, assessing Scott like a butcher would a slab of meat. He eventually stopped at Scott’s head, bending over slightly at the waist to get a closer look. Only a bright smirk was visible through Scott’s clouded mind._

_“What a pretty little thing you are,” the agent cooed creepily. Slimy fingers trailed over the shape of Scott’s stubbled cheek, and he saw an opportunity._

_So he took it._

_Snapping at the person, throwing his face unexpectedly sideways, Scott sank his teeth deeply into the fragile skin of his onlooker’s hand, drawing blood into his mouth. Listening to the person howl in fury and pain, snatching their torn hand away, Scott used as much momentum as he could and spit a mixture of blood and spit onto the individual’s face. While the disgruntled agent attempted to recover, a snicker erupted on Scott’s other side, chiding their companion for the rookie mistake, ultimately attempting to provoke a larger response. Lucky for them, it worked out as they planned._

_Whoever the handsy person was, they cursed at Scott in both embarrassment and resentment, and that was all Scott got to hear before a fist came down on the left side of his face, hard and fast and angry. Brutal agony was spreading at the site of impact, and Scott couldn’t even get his bearings before another came down. Then another, and another… All occurring in rapid succession, refusing to let up until Scott’s face was bruised and swollen and bleeding._

_After the individual had vented through their fury, taking it out on Scott’s defenseless body, they had barked at their partner to go get their “delivery.” Scott heard a lot of shuffling following that moment, but he was barely capable of turning his head._

_Of course, all it took was one moment, a moment of determined strength, to do so._

_Scott might not have remembered a lot of details about that day…_

_But he remembered the moment that they held up that first needle._

Sort of like the one that she held up now.

*****

            All it took was that one moment for things to go wrong.

            It only took one moment for Scott to tense, his spine stiffening unhealthily so, his pupils constricting into mere pinpoints, his eyes trained on that wretched needle with a laser-like focus, seeing but unseeing.

            Reyes should’ve recognized the signs then, should’ve been quicker to respond, but it was like that one second had dragged on for a hellish eternity. It was as if someone had fiddled with an unseen remote, slowing the entire moment down to an unnatural speed. It was as if the gods themselves had wanted to bask in the unsettling dread that plagued that single second, had wanted to savor the flavor of misery that coated the atmosphere with a sticky persistence. One instance shouldn’t realistically feel that long, but it was the next second that made up for it.

            As easy as a switch flipping on, time suddenly seemed to release its belated breath, all of it rushing out in one, steady _whoosh._ Whereas the previous second was locked in a lethargic standstill, the next one went by at the speed of light, chaos confusedly pouring down around them.

            Throwing himself away from the perceived threat, Scott launched himself back on the examination table wildly, his skull and back banging audibly against the wall, rattling the equipment hanging nearby. A desperate, animalistic sound tore itself from Scott’s throat, and a low stream of guttural, unintelligible whispers followed.

            Before either Reyes or Chakwas could respond, Scott kept on in his scrambling, falling distractedly off the table into a shaken heap.

            Blanket long forgotten, Scott had been conditioned in his fight-or-flight experiences to believe that a fight was now worthless, choosing instead to escape when possible. Noticing through his hazy mind that he would have to barrel through both of the room’s occupants to reach the doors, Scott crawled away in the opposite direction, flinging a spare chair away from his path, burrowing into the nearest corner. Curling into a ball, trying to make himself as small as possible, Scott covered his head with his hands, digging his fingers into his scalp, burying his eyelids into his bony knees.

            Panting and lightheaded, it took Scott a couple of minutes of deep breaths to come back to reality and realize what had happened, but the shame and chagrin that furled within made him settle deeper within himself.

            Watching the other man uncontrollably shudder, Reyes turned back to Dr. Chakwas. The doctor’s expression was generally composed, rationalizing to herself that this was something that she should have expected from someone in Scott’s circumstances, but she did little to hide the burning guilt and empathetic pain for not properly preparing for this. Honestly, she should’ve known better, she thought to herself, but Reyes doubted that anyone would blame her, himself included. She was just trying to do her job, and the bloodwork was necessary for Scott’s future health.

            “Give me a second with him, please,” Reyes whispered. Dr. Chakwas glanced between the two men hesitantly before nodding, sneaking out of the room.

            Grabbing Scott’s blanket as a peace offering, Reyes made his way to the man’s side, draping the blanket over his uncovered back. Watching Scott tense up, only to settle down when he felt the familiar warmth, Reyes made sure to put some distance between them. Pressing his back to the wall, Reyes slid down until he was seated on the ground, never taking his eyes off of Scott. Before he could formulate a response, however, Scott spoke.

            “I’m sorry,” he sniffed. Reyes simply regarded him in confusion, waiting for him to clarify what he meant, and his eyebrows furrowed when Scott remained silent.

            “For what?” Reyes asked in bewilderment.

            “You know what for,” Scott snapped impatiently, not wanting to have to admit his faults aloud. Reyes watched him again, his heart breaking in his chest for the younger man.

            “You don’t have _anything_ to apologize for,” Reyes stated heatedly, wishing that he could do more to ease Scott’s pain. Scott merely turned his head to the side at that, cheek resting against his kneecaps, looking at Reyes with refocused eyes.

            “So you say,” Scott muttered.

            “Because it’s true,” Reyes argued, receiving nothing in response. Sighing softly, he suggested, “Perhaps, we should end this appointment. I’m sure the doctor has dealt with your particular circumstances before. She should know what to do.”

            “No,” Scott hissed vehemently, sitting up while his eyes flashed challengingly. “Don’t.”

            “‘Don’t’ what?” Reyes questioned.

            “Treat me like that,” Scott vaguely explained, turning his stare towards the wall. “Like I’m fragile. Like I’m _weak._ ”

            “Scott, it’s okay to—”

            “No,” Scott interrupted, “it’s _my_ choice. Not yours. I know why she asked for that blood work, okay? I’m more prepared this time, and I—” He stopped, taking a couple of supposedly reassuring breaths before continuing. “I need to know this for sure.” He glanced at Reyes again, his gaze pleading for understanding, his voice trembling with emotion. “Don’t take that away from me.”

            When confronted with that look, placed under the weight of that soft gaze, Reyes was once again rendered powerless.

            He was such a weak man.

            Tapping an unsteady rhythm on his thigh, feeling his armor and weapons digging into his body uncomfortably, Reyes gave a short grumble and a languid stretch, feeling his exhausted limbs creak and pop under the stress. “Fine.”

             Scott chose to ignore the fact that it felt like he was getting permission. Instead, he gave a simple “thank you” in response, getting up to situate himself back on the bed.

            Reyes went to the door and coaxed Dr. Chakwas back into the room. Upon her return, she gave Scott a cautious, calming smile —one that reminded Scott of his childhood visits to his grandparents’ house, a time that had been full of delicious warmth and endless love. If he stretched his mind far back enough, he could still smell the aromatic scent of freshly-baked cookies, could still feel the flow of chocolate chips melting on his tongue. He could still recall how he would reward his grandmother with a wide, toothless grin of approval, receiving a comforting smile in return, one full of adoration.

            Bittersweet nostalgia flooded through his veins, and —even though he told the truth about not trusting doctors— he decided to let the sensation sweep him away. For now, he would let that temporary security distract him from what would come.

            “We don’t have to go any further with this exam, if you choose not to,” Dr. Chakwas informed him politely, maintaining a comfortable distance, the offending needle nowhere in sight. “I can make my physical assessment without the lab work, if need be.” Yet something in her tone implied that any diagnosis she gave would be uncertain without it.

            Scott was already shaking his head. “No. I mean, please, I _want_ you to finish it.”

            “You don’t have to, though,” Dr. Chakwas chided softly. “I understand that this has been a… traumatic experience—”

            _You don’t know anything about my “experiences,”_ Scott thought bitterly. “We all know why you were drawing the blood in the first place, Doctor, and it is going to have to be done, sooner or later. I’d prefer to know my body’s health _today_ , if that is okay with you.”

            Pursing her lips, Dr. Chakwas spared Reyes a pointed glance, her forehead crinkling in concern. “Are you sure that it’s _you_ that wants this?”

            Both men bristled at that, neither one being particularly fond of what she was implying.

            Glowering, Scott snapped, “Positive.”

            Chakwas grimaced, knowing that she was in a bit of a bind, faced with a double-edged sword. Part of her wouldn’t ever be one hundred percent on board with either outcome to this decision, but she knew that Scott was right about one thing. Trauma or not, it was in his best interest to get his blood to the lab as soon as possible. If he had a disease…

            “Okay,” Chakwas surrendered, “I’ll do it, but…” She gave Scott a stern glare, communicating clearly that she wanted no nonsense. “If you feel as if you are going to have another episode, if you get even the _tiniest_ symptom, you tell me, and we stop. I refuse to intentionally harm a patient, even if it’s only on a mental level.”

            “If it happens, I’ll tell you,” Scott conceded, feeling no true victory in winning this argument, bracing himself for what was about to occur.

            Focusing on steadying his breathing, he watched as she prepared another needle, honing in on the fact that this one was clearly different from the others that he had experience with. Now that Scott was confronted with it again, however, it was embarrassingly obvious that this one wasn’t used for injections at all. It was visibly empty of any and all substances, and it didn’t even have a plunger to push down on. A replaceable, labeled vial was already resting patiently in a clear chamber, waiting to be filled.

            When Scott caught Dr. Chakwas’ gaze again, he gave her a resolute nod of acquiescence, grabbing onto Reyes’ exposed wrist once more, clinging to the already-abused skin. Given that this was the only spot that his armor left open, nestled between his glove and sleeve, Reyes eagerly allowed the contact, standing supportively at Scott’s side.

            Never taking his eyes off of the needle, Scott watched as the doctor went through the routine of prepping his skin before expertly sliding it into place. Piercing through skin and vein alike, as smooth as a knife slicing through warm butter, Scott ensured that he kept his eyes locked on every motion that she made, watching the thick, garnet fluid rush into the vial. Once that one was filled, she swiftly replaced it with another. And another, and another. It eventually settled into a tedious rhythm, until she finally decided that she had enough, removing the needle and setting the blood aside, tending to the tiny dot of a wound with the appropriate pressure and dressing.

            After that, the appointment dully continued on without any further trouble. Dr. Chakwas threw test after test at Scott, and he readily —well, as readily as he could— accepted them in kind. She collected a sample of his urine, performed a throat swab, and took him into a neighboring room to perform some quick X-rays. Afterwards, she disinfected all of the cuts and damage that was left behind on his body, cleaning away the spatters of blood as she went, both his and that guard’s from the facility —the one that now lay dead with a gaping hole in his chest, courtesy of Reyes.

            Once she asked for permission, and received a stoic reply of consent, Scott ordered Reyes to turn around while she assessed his genital and anal areas, because —while Scott wanted him nearby— he refused to put himself through further humiliation. Regardless of the fact that Reyes had already seen him naked, Scott now had the option to maintain what remained of his dignity, and he enthusiastically took the opportunity to make this inspection any less demeaning than it would already be. Steeling himself, he succumbed to her brief bouts of prodding and swabbing, distancing himself from the situation at hand. Thankfully, Dr. Chakwas was straight to business, never once lingering more than necessary, wrapping things up as swiftly as humanly possible.

            After a few more tests, performed away from his lower regions, the doctor was satisfied, at last.

            Pulling out a light blue, scrub-like uniform, along with an accompanying pair of white socks and tennis shoes, Dr. Chakwas handed them over for Scott to change into, replacing them as necessary until everything fitted properly. Once he was dressed, Chakwas shooed both men from the room, gathering the dirty blanket to dispose of, and Scott thanked all of the decades of medical advancement when she informed him that his results should be ready in several hours. That left Scott with time to question. Time to think.

            When they departed, returning to their seats from before, the next patient immediately entered the clinical area, eyeing Scott and Reyes suspiciously as they scampered past them.

            Arriving back to their seats, Scott was grateful that someone had taken away the datapad, so he didn’t have to feel the crumbling pressure simmer in his brain while the shelter’s registration page glared balefully back at him. Instead, he was met with a simple carton of apple juice and a bag of granola mix. Containing a combination of nuts and fruits and seeds, the weight itself was a wonderful, plump handful that lazily molded its shape to the palm of his hand, and Scott had to remind himself about Chakwas’ warnings on overdoing it too fast and too soon.

            And, while it wasn’t exactly a five-star meal to anyone else, it sure felt like one to Scott, having something to consume outside of the meager rations that Cerberus cheaply provided. Even at the shelter, it wasn’t something to brag much about. Although, the shelter’s occupants were just grateful to have a steady source of sustenance. Nevertheless, the residents had designated time slots for actual meals, had cooks that adhered to the allotted schedules, and it was only now nearing dawn, which was still quite a bit of time away from the shelter’s regular breakfast hours. This would have to do for their new guests, for now.

            Opening the bag, Scott’s stomach rumbled when the aroma permeated the air, and it took all of his willpower to stop from shoving his fist into the bag and tossing an unbearable handful into his mouth to munch on.

            At this point, he was absolutely ravenous, and he curiously wondered if any of the others had already filled themselves to puking.

            To be honest, even knowing how unpleasant it would be, he was tempted to do so himself, but he resisted, grabbing a reasonable amount to chew on slowly. Contemplating the flavors, he ignored the furious gurgles that his gut continued emitting, angling himself to address Reyes.

            Catching him on his cellphone, Scott watched while he swiped at the screen rapidly. Unbeknownst to the younger man, the Charlatan was making contact with the few of his trusted agents in the area, ordering them to have his plane ready for departure, on his word. Scott continued to nibble on his snack, watching and waiting. Soon enough, he broke the silence.

            “What’s your stake in all of this?” Scott abruptly asked, startling Reyes from his stupor. The Charlatan glanced over at him in bewilderment, eyebrows raised incredulously.

            “Excuse me.”

            “Your stake,” Scott explained slowly and loudly, as if Reyes had somehow become both deaf and dumb within seconds. “What is it? What are you playing for?”

            “I’m a smuggler,” Reyes replied instantly, instinctively omitting his true identity. So far, only his most trusted agents, along with Shepard and a few in his inner circle, knew the name behind the Charlatan persona. Eyeing the place warily, noting the variety of hidden security cameras, Reyes wasn’t one for broadcasting who he was, and the response was second nature by now. “I work the underground for my own reasons.” _Vague, but true._

Apparently, Scott wasn’t as keen on the vagueness.

            “Bullshit,” he griped, not buying into the involvement from such a miniscule role. “What business does a smuggler have, infiltrating a drug and sex trafficking ring?” Scott’s eyes narrowed, and he had to grit his teeth against the pain and agony that rapidly surfaced in his chest, confronted with a reasonable possibility. He wouldn’t… Scott’s heart refused to believe that his savior could do such a horrific thing, but his mind wasn’t having it, throwing the most logical scenario in Scott’s face. “Unless you were planning on obtaining and selling that payload for yourself. Because, if that’s the case, you can take that offer of yours and shove it right up your ass, Vidal.”

            Scott was about to stand up and march off, but a hand darted out and snagged onto Scott’s wrist, yanking him back down to his seat. Turning on Reyes, Scott glowered viciously, and he tried his best to snatch back, mindful of the food and drink in his hands. It wouldn’t do to spill everything and make a scene. The last thing that Scott wanted was to attract further attention to himself.

            “Let go,” Scott snarled.

            “Will you stop, and let me explain for a minute?” Reyes retorted, tightening his grip in panic, not wanting Scott to reject him like _this_ , based on completely inaccurate assumptions. Scott growled again, tugging slightly, before he succumbed.

            “Stop wasting our time by playing games, then,” Scott spat.

            “I’m not—” Reyes huffed, changing tactics. Leaning in closer, he dropped his voice to a low whisper, his voice coming out almost silent in the large room. “If you come with me, I’ll be more than happy to explain my position in all of this, but I need you to realize that some information can’t just be thrown around in public. I understand that you want to know who I am. Trust me, I get it, but I’m asking you to look at things from my perspective. For some players in the underground, discretion is a key element.”

            “And, it’s one for you?”

            “Exactly.”

            Closing his eyes, Scott inhaled deeply, releasing the breath through his nose in quiet contemplation. Opening his eyes again, he trained his sights on Reyes, asking the most important question.

            “How do I know that I can trust you?”

            Reyes paused momentarily at that loaded inquiry, but he knew that any prolonged thinking on his part would only set Scott off. He obviously wanted transparency from Reyes, and, if that’s what it took to make him agree…

            “Well,” Reyes chewed on his reply cautiously, “that’s the thing. You don’t.”

            Scoffing, Scott searched Reyes’ golden irises skeptically. “You’re doing a piss poor job of convincing me as to why this is a _good_ idea.”

            “I’m just being honest,” Reyes defended.

            “‘Honest’?” Scott laughed sourly. “Yeah, because you syndicate cronies definitely know the meaning of the word.”

            “Listen, I’ll be the first to admit that I’m not a good man. There is no such thing as ‘good’ in this lifestyle, but I do know that, right now, I’m telling you nothing but the truth. I’m not about sugarcoat this offer for you,” Reyes added. “You made it abundantly clear that you won’t buy into it, even if I tried.”

            All of their conversation halted then, both men appraising the other, attempting to figure out where to go from there. Each of them knew that it was Scott’s decision, in the end, but Scott still had one issue that he wanted to address. He shifted in his seat uncomfortably, prepared to meet resistance for his next request.

            “If I stay with you, I want a way to protect myself,” Scott announced determinedly. Reyes looked at him in bemusement.

            “You just told me hours ago that you didn’t want to live…” Reyes started hesitantly.

            “I said that I didn’t _care_ if I lived or died,” Scott corrected patiently. “I never once actively tried to take my own life.” _I never really had the chance, but_ he _doesn’t need to know that._ “This isn’t something that I will budge on. I’m not going to stay alone with you without some way to defend myself.”

            Reyes scowled, and Scott briefly worried if he had accidentally voiced his thoughts aloud by mistake. “No guns.” After all, if Scott got any ideas, Reyes wasn’t really one that was equipped to deal with fatal gunshot wounds. From his time in the military, he had to deal with fair share, of course, but all it took was one single headshot…

            “A knife, then,” Scott compromised wearily. _Can’t stop a bullet, but Reyes had countless of opportunities to shoot me, if that’s what he had been after._

            “Fine,” Reyes agreed, releasing Scott’s wrist, internally cringing when he saw the slight redness left behind by his fingers. He turned away from the sight, disgusted at his behavior. “I’ll give it to you as soon as we’re out the door. I don’t want any of the others to see you armed and freak out.”

            “’M not gonna use it on any of them,” Scott grumbled, displeased.

            “Even so,” Reyes replied, regarding him gently. “They don’t know that, and I’m still not certain that this won’t end up with a knife in my back.”

            Scott grinned wryly. “Don’t trust me?”

            “Haven’t made up my mind yet,” Reyes answered truthfully. His tone was then clouded with uncertainty, his insecurities getting the best of him, needing some reassurance. “So, just to be clear, you’re coming to Miami? With me?”

            Nothing was really holding Scott back, at that point. A part of him always knew what his answer would be, from that exact moment that Reyes had presented him with the option. New York City had nothing left to offer him. Really, it never gave him much to begin with. The city was now nothing more than a memento of his pain, all of his scars and his agony linked to this one place. If he stuck around, knowing that he was given this opportunity for a new beginning in a new location, only to have turned it down, Scott didn’t think that he would ever be able to completely heal from what had happened to him, especially if he had a flurry of “what if”s constantly trailing his back. Even with all of the uncertainties lying on this future’s path…

            There was one thing that Scott was sure of—

            “I don’t want to stay here.” _I_ can’t _stay here._ “So, yeah, I guess I’m coming with you.”

*****

            That was how, after hours of murmured conversation and late planning, Scott and Reyes wound back up in Dr. Chakwas’ office, ready to hear the results. At Reyes’ behest, and Scott’s approval, all of her relevant records on Scott would be forwarded to Reyes’ personal doctor in Miami, Dr. Nakamoto. While Reyes could tell that she was having trouble swallowing the situation, similar to Shepard, Dr. Chakwas knew better than to intervene in a client’s personal decisions, sending the information off with a flourish before she addressed the giant elephant in the room.

            “Against all odds, you’re free of any diseases, including any STDs.” Despite her astonished statement, anyone with eyes could see how relieved the doctor truly was, having become accustomed to delivering the exact opposite news to others in Scott’s situation. He really was fortunate, and they were all well-aware of the fact.

            Scott let out a heavy breath, one relatively gigantic weight having been lifted from his shoulders. Unless someone had been willing to pay the full price to personally enslave one of their prostitutes, Cerberus had always been strict in choosing their clientele —their only action that Scott could honestly say he was grateful for. Tests were a common occurrence, on both sides, because it was better to invest a small amount into their sexual health than to lose a valuable product because it was tainted.

            In the end, that’s all it had been about. It wasn’t like they did it out of some inherent sense of human decency. Nope. At the end of the day, Scott and the others had been no more than a product, just another chance for the bastards to make a profit.

            Nevertheless, it was comforting for Scott to have some inkling of stability in this moment. It was soothing to know that, despite all of the self-imposed feelings of filth and griminess, he was still clean on some physical, realistic level.

            Listening to the doctor drone on, her voice a blur behind the ringing in his ears, Scott prayed that Reyes was taking notes on what she was talking about, because Scott was still playing her words over and over in his mind.

            For the first time in a while, Scott felt something, a tiny molecule, that was akin to hope. One could even stretch it out to mean happiness, if desired. It just felt _good_. Good to know that, despite all of the hell that he had been put through, not everything in Scott’s life had to work against him. It were the small instances like this that made up for the hardship, but Scott knew that this was only one battle in a long war ahead.

            On the other hand, it was definitely a victory that was worth his mental celebration.

            Nearby, however, Reyes kept peeking at the younger man in concern, acknowledging the distantly glazed appearance of his eyes, hoping that he wasn’t sinking back into that place in his mind that the needle had threw him into mere hours ago.

            Since the younger man wasn’t paying much attention to the doctor’s diagnosis and explanations, a fact that Chakwas and Reyes were both acutely aware of, Reyes made sure to listen to every specific detail. Because, while Scott didn’t have any discernible diseases, he still had physical ailments that needed to be treated. Besides his dehydration and malnourishment, which she covered again, just to be thorough, Dr. Chakwas also informed them that he had obvious anal fissures that would need to be treated with care, if they were to properly heal.

            Additionally, she was extremely concerned with the fact that there were traces of drugs still present in his body, some known and others not. Her immediate recommendation was for Scott to consider rehab and/or detox programs for when the drugs eventually worked their way out of his system, triggering the inevitable withdrawal. She also suggested pairing that with psychotherapy to help him cope with the mental and emotional aftermath of his trauma. If he chose not to pursue that path, however, no one could force him to do anything, so it would be best if he had a reliable support system (at that remark, she gave Reyes a meaningful glance).

            With all of the major stuff out of the way, she then proceeded to type out a list of prescriptions to send to Dr. Nakamoto and Reyes’ local pharmacy, reminding Scott to keep his wounds clean and freshly bandaged to avoid infection.

            After that was said and done, she dismissed them both, and Scott finally snapped out of his dazed state when the conversation rolled to a stop, stumbling out of his seat and exiting the office with Reyes.

            Matching the older man step-for-step, Scott followed behind as they made their way to the door of the building. Reyes had already booked a driver, the car waiting outside the main entrance, ready to beat the oncoming morning traffic to the airport. With the sun rising more and more by the second, the monsters would have retired from their night of chaos, the curfew lifting as the streets gradually came to life with pedestrians and commuters alike. Undoubtedly, borders would have changed overnight, and new battles would wage again in the next one, the syndicate bosses busying themselves by plotting and tracing their next steps. For now, however, Reyes’ top priority was getting them back home. He needed a nap and a drink, and not in that exact order.

            Of course, Shepard just had to cut them off before they left, inserting himself smoothly into their designated path.

            It didn’t help matters when Shepard made it clear that he had little else to say to Reyes at that point, rudely ignoring the Charlatan’s presence while all of his attention remained on Scott, and Reyes couldn’t help but feel a pinprick of irritation at the Commander for taking the younger man’s attention away from him. He knew that it was juvenile and childish, but Reyes never claimed to be selfless. Many called him greedy, and with good reason.

            “Kid, you leaving us already?” Shepard asked lightly, an underlying tightness winding itself into the folds of his voice. While Scott gave him a polite (yet wary) smile, Reyes scowled at John from Scott’s side.

            “Yeah,” Scott answered smoothly, oblivious to Reyes’ inner turmoil, “I don’t think it’s in my best interests to stay in New York any longer. Heard the weather’s nice in Miami, though.” Scott spared Reyes a glance, and so did Shepard, however fleeting.

            Nodding in agreement, Shepard’s comforting smile cracked and transitioned more into a forced one. Meanwhile, Reyes continued to fume at his persistent interruptions, having to intentionally remind himself that John was only interfering out of his heroic sense of obligation. He was trying to protect Scott, after all, and that was the only thing, at the moment, that made Reyes respect the man’s stubbornness.

            “So I hear,” John hummed in contemplation, “but I didn’t just stop by for idle chat. I saw you leaving, so I wanted to give you this.”

            Reaching into one of his armor’s many pockets, he pulled out a sleek business card that he had swiped from the front desk. Along with all of his public contact information on the front, disguised through the use of his legal businesses, there were several other numbers scribbled in black ink on the back of the small rectangle. Eyes bouncing between John’s face and the card, Scott regarded him in astonishment.

            “Take it,” John insisted, waving the card closer to Scott. “Please,” he added, after some thought. “It’ll help ease my mind to know that you have my private information.”

            “Why?” Scott questioned, taking the card and depositing it into the pocket of his scrubs. Shepard shrugged nonchalantly, smile supposedly careless, but his eyes portrayed the seriousness that weighed upon his next words.

            “Just in case you need an escape,” Shepard said, his eyes sliding over to Reyes temporarily, lingering on him meaningfully. “But I’ve wasted enough of your time. You both have a flight to catch, right?” Without waiting for an answer, he started strolling backwards towards the receptionists’ desk, giving them a mock salute in farewell. “Bye, kid.” His eyes slid over again, his voice becoming noticeably more hostile, housing a warning within itself. “Vidal.”

            “Shepard,” Reyes replied cordially, coldly watching the other man while Scott waved goodbye. Addressing Scott now, Reyes did his best to melt the ice that remained in his tone. “Let’s go. I’m ready to get home.”

            Obediently, Scott followed after Reyes, only stopping once they reached the car. Reminding the older man of their agreement, Reyes slid one of the combat knives free from his boots, handing it over to Scott, his gloved fingers brushing over Scott’s bare ones.

            Once they entered the vehicle, the driver made no remarks about the fact that Scott was brandishing a weapon, or the fact that Reyes was still clad in his mission-ready armor. He must have dealt with underground types before, and knew better than to say anything.

            Tired and fatigued, watching the city swim by in the early morning rays, Scott fought off his sleep while the driver wove in and out of traffic, making their way to the airport.

            Upon arrival, Reyes gave the driver directions to a private sector of the airport, set aside specifically for occasions such as these. After the man parked in the appointed lot, Reyes transferred him a handsome sum of money and wished him a good day, having to practically drag Scott’s weary frame alongside him. Disregarding the headaches of security entirely, Reyes led Scott through the isolated portion of the airport, approaching his appointed terminal, two of his guards waiting for him attentively.

            Making their way towards them, Scott looked around for one final time, soaking in the parts of the city that were visible from the large windows. Today, he was leaving the one place that he ever called home behind.

            He really wished that he could truthfully say that he was going to miss the place, but Scott knew that that type of statement would always be false now, the city’s timeless beauty painted dreadfully black through Scott’s own experiences.

            Returning his attention to the terminal, he and Reyes closed the remaining distance and boarded the private jet, leaving a life of pain behind. A chapter in Scott’s life had ended today, and a door had been shut tightly behind him in response.

           

            He never once looked back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a little BTW: STD testing takes way longer than demonstrated. The process was obviously sped up for plot purposes, and this is technically in the future; therefore, things like this are fairly open to interpretation. I'll try to point out inconsistencies like this when possible, in comparison to current day. I just didn't want people to take this as an accurate representation, or anything.
> 
> P.S. Thanks for all of the support for this story (kudos, comments, subscriptions, etc.)! Sorry if you guys get tired of hearing it every chapter, but I'm just someone that loves to show appreciation a lot, and you guys make my day. <3


	5. Home Sweet Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reyes and Scott make it home, but both are having problems adjusting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, good news is that I have a double post for you guys!  
> Bad news is that I'm not satisfied with these two chapters. Might change them later, but have no idea how to do it now. Hope you guys are ready for this emotional roller coaster.
> 
> CHAPTER WARNINGS: Vomiting...? Besides the Unhealthy Relationships tag (which should be a given by now), I don't think there's much else.
> 
> Anyways, enjoy, my lovelies!

            After everything that had happened in the past twenty-four hours, Reyes really should’ve been using every available minute to rest on the three-hour flight back home. Unfortunately for him, he had matters that he needed to attend to before he and Scott landed, especially if he planned on having the rest of the day off.

            Right now, it looked like rest was going to have to wait on the backburner a bit longer.

            Great.

            _Is it too early for a drink?_ he thought grumpily to himself, leading Scott into the aircraft, his two guards following stoically —yet forebodingly— behind them.

            Entering the luxurious cabin, two rows of expensive, tan leather seats waited for them on one side of the entrance, the door to the cockpit greeting their eyes from the other, sealed and secured impenetrably tight, the pilots whisked away from wandering eyes. Passing up the four, cozy seats altogether, Reyes led a befuddled Scott past the first partition of the airplane. Watching his guards settle into two of the four aforementioned seats, he gave them a meaningful, authoritative glance —one that insinuated clearly that their leader didn’t wish to be disturbed. Nevertheless, he voiced his demands aloud.

            “Gentlemen,” Reyes crooned lightheartedly, his voice housing an underlying darkness that demanded and expected no less than the upmost respect and obedience. It was a silken, misleading tone that reminded them that their positions were replaceable, that knowing the Charlatan’s true identity was a privilege in this world of theirs, that it was both a blessing and a curse wrapped up into one, gigantic, tangled mess. Both bodyguards exchanged a weighted look, turning their loyal attention back to their boss. “Unless a life-or-death situation should arise that threatens the safety of my… companion and I, there are to be no interruptions. Is that clear?”

            Both men instantly nodded in understanding, shifting unsteadily under the Charlatan’s powerful gaze, his eyes relaying more information than his expressions and his body language ever could. Reyes’ lip quirked into a friendly smile, eyes darting between the two individuals, golden eyes piercing, intense and intimidating.

            “Good,” Reyes stated cordially, leaning his weight onto the door that separated the two sections, grabbing a hold of the silver handle. “Have a nice flight, you two.”

            Without waiting for a response, Reyes slid the heavy, solid door into place with a resounding click, providing him and Scott with as much privacy as possible, given their current situation.

            Turning in place, Reyes started to address the younger man, hesitant of his reaction to all of this, but what he found was a much greater sight than he had anticipated.

            Words suddenly escaping him, Reyes hurried to close his gaping mouth, watching the handsome, young man stroll about his cabin before him. Audibly snapping his jaw shut, he regarded his fellow passenger questioningly, studying him with a captivated gaze while the quiet around them boiled on into a simmering silence.

            Standing around curiously, oblivious to the enraptured man that watched his every step, Scott appraised their spacious cabin in awe, his mind still spinning from the fact alone that he was even doing this. Still reeling from his newfound freedom, along with the notion that he had somehow summoned enough courage to take this enormous leap, it didn’t help matters that he wasn’t used to being in such a large, vibrant space. While others might scoff at the idea of an airplane being described as “roomy,” Scott would have been happy to live there for the rest of his life, given the opportunity.

            Much more welcoming than his cell ever was, this portion of the plane was longer than the last. Four more armchairs were positioned in the front, angled towards each other for conversational purposes, identical to the setup in the last room. Except, now, there were two tables that were nestled cozily between each pair of seats, one for the left and one for the right. A small TV was nestled into the divider, positioned above the chair on the left.

            Beyond that, there was a wide sofa on one side of the room, meant to be used in the free time between takeoff and landing, made from the same leisurely fabric as all of the other chairs. A line of windows rested above it, embracing the natural light from the outside world, and a pile of dark brown throw pillows littered a majority of the sitting space.

            Across from the couch, there laid a long, dresser-like setup that provided more table space and cabinets for storage. Another TV was mounted on top of the brown, glossy wood, and an extra set of windows hid timidly behind it.

            Hearing the pilot chime in over the intercom, Scott distractedly listened while she announced that they were conducting some last-minute checks before takeoff, spouting off the rest of her spiel while Scott ventured on. Roaming towards the next door of the plane, Scott took Reyes’ silence as permission and entered the following section.

            Upon inspection, Scott crossed over into the master suite carefully. A huge bed took up the majority of the room’s space, so Scott made sure to maneuver his way around it a bit, careful not to knock his feet against the hard drawers that were underneath, wary of the room’s tiny capacity.

            Continuing on, Scott stepped through to the last area of the plane. Searching around the private en-suite, he was genuinely shocked and impressed at how fancy the entire setup was, subconsciously wondering just how much money Reyes spent on something like this.

            Craning his neck around the door, Scott nearly gasped aloud in glee whenever he spotted —of all things— a walk-in shower, feeling a childish happiness flood through him.

            It had been so long since Scott had had a real shower —one that didn’t consist of scentless soap and rough bristles that scratched at his pale skin, leaving red, irritated streaks in their wake. It had been so long since he could just take a shower for the sake of _wanting_ one, desiring nothing more than to feel actual warm water flowing over his body, unwinding the tense knots that brewed throughout muscles and flesh. It had been so long since anyone had granted him such a luxury, outside of preparing him for one of his clients, and a burning need started to swim through him, demanding and insistent. It was so excruciating how suddenly he _needed_ this, how suddenly he needed a sense of normalcy to ground him in his collapsing world.

            His mind was in a tailspin, his emotions in a cluster, but he just _needed._

            Scampering to return to Reyes, Scott nearly bumped into him when he rushed back into the master suite, stumbling back to watch him grab some duffel bags and cases from the drawers. Opening the bulky, black cases with a different four-digit code for each, Scott watched while Reyes began to rid himself of his armor and weapons, storing them back into their designated spots. Scott didn’t realize that he was staring, not until Reyes closed the containers with a sharp snap, breaking him of his stupor.

            Clad only in his undersuit, Reyes raised an eyebrow at the younger man, and Scott tapped his hand nervously against his thigh in a rapid, staccato rhythm. All of his confidence from the day’s previous events now left him drained, and he felt as if he was somehow intruding. Like he was nothing more than an annoying menace in this stranger’s life.

            “I want to take a shower,” he blurted, snatching at the statement completely out of the blue, wincing at how awkward and rude he was being to the man that had ultimately saved his life. After all, ever since Reyes had given him the generous offer, Scott felt like he was continuously making demand after demand, taking and taking, as if what Reyes had already given him wasn’t enough.

            Unaware of Scott’s brooding over his “blatant ungratefulness,” Reyes nodded nonchalantly at his new companion, storing his cases away before he dug into a few of the duffel bags. Glad that he always kept some overnight supplies handy, Reyes started pulling out several items, laying them all out onto the bedspread for Scott. There were towels, washcloths, shampoo, conditioner, body wash, and every other toiletry item known to man.

            While Scott looked over the selection with wide eyes, Reyes pulled out a clean pair of his sweatpants, some socks, and a t-shirt, hoping that they would somewhat fit on the man’s slighter frame. Reyes made sure to leave all of his underwear in the bag, however, highly doubting that Scott would want to wear some random guy’s boxer briefs.

            Returning his attention to the other man, he replied soothingly, “After takeoff, it’s all yours.” Scott beamed at him in astonishment.

            “You sure?” Scott asked half-heartedly, not wanting to give the man a chance to retract the offer, but also not wanting to inhospitably impose himself onto the other man’s territory. Reyes held back a chuckle at the poorly-disguised eagerness that also squirmed its way into Scott’s voice, refusing to let Scott believe that he was laughing _at_ him, of all things.

            Smiling serenely at him, Reyes invitingly held his hand out to Scott. “I’m sure.”

            Hearing those words, seeing that gentle grin that quite literally lit up the room in Scott’s eyes, Scott fiddled with the knife that was still clutched tightly in one hand, circling the hilt around in his palm. While he didn’t let go of it entirely, instead transferring it to his left (and weaker) hand, Scott raised his right and set it into Reyes’, warmth immediately engulfing his cold, clammy palm, their two different skin tones contrasting in a manner that made Scott’s heart leap in his chest.

            It was one of the few, first signs of trust that Scott would ever give him. Nonetheless, it was a meaningful victory. In Reyes’ eyes, at least.

            Eyes softening, Reyes’ smile became more genuine, his own heart melting into a runny, soupy mess within his chest cavity. Squeezing Scott’s hand, he led him back into the other compartment, only letting go when they situated themselves into two of their four seats. Settled across from one another, each man listened while their pilot spoke over the intercom again, going through all of the safety basics as they began to taxi out onto the runway.

            Setting the knife at his side, tucking it in between the arm and the cushion, Scott fastened his seatbelt and tightened it anxiously, leaning his head back against the headrest wearily. Eyes slipping closed, Scott forced his breathing to even out to a steady pace, and he clutched at the armrests with both hands once the plane began to accelerate, nails digging into the pristine leather. They felt little more than a slight jerk as the pilot guided the jet into the air, wheels sliding gracefully off the ground, and then they were off.

            As soon as he was able to, hearing the tell-tale ding that signaled that they were free to move about, Reyes connected his phone to the plane’s Wi-Fi in order to contact Keema for his arrangements. Before he could pull up his messenger, however, Scott spoke up from the seat in front of him, the plush leather creaking as he shifted.

            “It’s been such a long time since I’ve last been on an airplane,” Scott mused aloud, his eyes trained outside of the window, solemn and distant. Hands folded in his lap, he was half-hanging off of the seat in order to lean closer to the window, wishing to get a better view. Reyes glanced outside as well, wanting to see what Scott found so interesting, but there was nothing there besides the heavenly view of white, fluffy clouds and bright, blue skies.

            Surprised that he hadn’t rushed off to the shower at his first chance, Reyes sat there for a quiet moment, not quite knowing what to say, but he decided to set his cellphone aside when the screen went black from disuse, trying to think of something.

            “Did you travel a lot? Before…” Reyes waved his hand, gesturing inelegantly. Picking up instantly on what he meant, Scott shrugged, his gaze hardening.

            “A bit. My father was in the military. Sometimes, we would travel to the different bases in the States, but Mom mostly worked out of New York. Made that home.” Scott grinned darkly. “Well, for them anyways.”

            Reyes’ eyebrows furrowed at that, because he was pretty sure that there was more to the puzzle that he was missing here. After all, Scott hadn’t mentioned family before, not in all of the questioning that he’s been through. Reyes had just assumed that he was orphaned, just as the others probably were, but he sincerely hoped that he wasn’t snatching someone’s missing family member away from them, whisking him away before they could properly reunite. If someone was out there, yearning for their brother or their son to return home…

            Well, only one way to find out, and it wasn’t by keeping quiet.

            “Is your family still alive?” Reyes asked slowly, unsure of whether he should be treading on eggshells or not. Watching Scott’s posture stiffen, however, Reyes immediately regretted challenging the fragile piece of trust that they had just built, walking ignorantly into that particular minefield like an idiot. Scott threw him a nasty glare.

            Intrusive question or not, Scott answered back bleakly and plainly, clearly despising Reyes for even asking.

            “Probably. But, then again, you’re asking the wrong person,” Scott sneered. “As far as I’m concerned, my family died a long time ago.”

            “I could always look them up for you,” Reyes offered cautiously, throwing his hands up in surrender when Scott glowered again, “if you wish.”

            “I don’t,” Scott spat. Reyes sighed defensively.

            “Just thought that I would offer,” he grumbled. Things fell quiet again for a few seconds, both men lost to their thoughts.

            Skirting around the sensitive subject, Scott spoke up. “So… what about you?”

            “What about me?” Reyes questioned warily, his fist clenching and unclenching at the thought of speaking about _his_ family.

            Sensing his unease, Scott’s expression softened in empathy, and he decided to go a different route than Reyes had, sticking to the original discussion. While it was a bit hypocritical for Reyes to ask about Scott’s family, then clam up at the possibility of Scott inquiring about the same topic in return, Scott decided to have mercy on him.

            “Come on,” Scott breathed teasingly, lightening his tone, as if Reyes should already know what his train of thought was. “You have your very own plane —one that must cost a fortune, I might add— so you must travel a lot. Way more than I did, at any chance.”

            “Relatively,” Reyes answered dismissively, looking around the cabin proudly, practically preening at having his possessions complimented.

            _How modest,_ Scott thought sarcastically, allowing himself a small, private grin. Though, if he was being honest with himself, the older man did look pretty adorable with that expression on his face.

            Scrubbing his mind clean of such thoughts, Scott looked out of the window again, calming his blushing cheeks before he addressed Reyes.

            “That’s not really a straight answer,” Scott eventually observed, having regained his composure.

            Reyes had obviously been spending too much time with Keema, he concluded, because —as soon as he let himself relax even the tiniest bit— he replied with that playful snark of his.

            The response was out before he could even comprehend what he was going to say.

            “Good thing I’m bisexual then,” he joked, blanching as soon as the cheesy joke slipped free from his traitorous lips. Now, he was the one blushing, and he covered his face with a horrified groan, peaking at Scott through his fingers, dreading his reaction.

            While it wasn’t the most appropriate thing to say to a stranger, Scott snorted in both astonishment and amusement, clasping his hands over his mouth and nose as a stream of snickers broke through at Reyes’ expense. Shocked by the younger man’s unanticipated laughter, Reyes was sure of one thing.

            He wanted to hear it again.

            And again.

            Dorky as it was, Reyes was sure that he would never get tired of hearing it, even if it was aimed squarely at him.

            “Of all the things,” Scott chuckled, “you decided to go with _that_ overused line.”

            “It’s a classic,” Reyes defended, his face still heated in chagrin.

            “Uh-huh, surreee…” Scott laughed lowly, unwilling to budge and let this one go. Reyes mumbled under his breath, flustered.

            “Fine, fine…” he said. “I don’t travel outside of the Southern states often. Well, not as often as you might think,” Reyes elaborated swiftly, wanting to get beyond his little screw-up as swiftly as possible. “I just have a thing for privacy, but I also happen to have a certain…” He searched for the right word. “… _appreciation_ for aircraft in general. So, this was an obvious purchase, in my book.”

            “You say that, as if buying your own jet is a common occurrence,” Scott noted incredulously. Reyes shrugged, lips sealed tight, ice trickling down his spine as Scott unknowingly stomped towards a restricted area of Reyes’ past. He tried not to fault Scott for simply being curious, but it didn’t make the unbidden memories any less difficult to confront. Scott tried again. “Why the interest in aircraft?”

            “I was a Naval Aviator,” Reyes snipped brusquely, ignoring the way Scott’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline in disbelief.

            “Impressive,” Scott replied sincerely, familiar with just how much schooling and training went into becoming one. It was certainly something that demanded respect. It also meant… “So, you have a degree?”

            “Yes, and I was an officer before I left,” Reyes grunted, bristling under the innocent question, “believe it or not.”

            Scott caught on to the hostility then, frowning at the unnecessary, additional phrasing and its blunt implications. “I didn’t mean it that way.”

            Of course he didn’t. Reyes knew that, but he had become so used to everyone around him meaning it exactly “that way.” Just because he was different, just because he was _foreign_ , just because he wasn’t…

            No, he wasn’t going to think on that.

            Nevertheless, it was funny how years could pass on by.

            But some things never changed.

            “Perhaps, you should go take your shower,” Reyes dismissed, picking up his phone and turning the screen on pointedly.

            Blinking owlishly at the one-eighty degree turn from just moments prior, Scott felt rage and shame churning in his gut at Reyes’ cold demeanor. The change had been so abrupt, and Scott couldn’t help but to blame himself as he stood from his seat, clutching at his abdomen as his gut gave another sickening twist.

            Ambling towards the bedroom with an unsteady gait, his mind started to rave at him for his own stupidity.

            Why did he have to push so much? Reyes would surely throw his ass back onto the streets now. First steps off of the plane, and Scott would be back to square one again. Reyes didn’t want him now, surely. Not after that. No one wanted him.

            No one.

            _Stop,_ Scott growled at himself in aggravation, slamming the bedroom door shut, turning the lock into place. Grabbing what he needed off of the bed, he rushed into the bathroom and began setting up the shower, trying his best to distract himself.

            Unfortunately for him, the tears started streaming down his cheeks in frustration, clouding his vision as he fumbled for the panel to turn on the spray.

            Feeling his panic conquering his mind, Scott abandoned what he was doing.

            Rushing to the toilet, feeling his stomach twist and curl, he vomited into the bowl through the dizzying pain. Retching and heaving while his head spun, he attempted to remain as quiet as possible, not wanting Reyes anywhere near him right now. His back arched and hunched, his frame contorting with the motions of his body, expelling any food or water that he had consumed from that past day. Acid soon gnawed at the lining of his throat, and his tightening stomach busily moved on from the remaining chunks of food, forcing bile out of his body by the tons. By the time he was finished, he was tired and exhausted, dehydrated and hungered once more.

            Cleaning and flushing the toilet, Scott managed to stand on his wobbly legs, shivering uncontrollably while he made his way over to the sink. Grabbing a new toothbrush out of an unopened pack, Scott rinsed his mouth out first and then did his best to calm his jittery nerves, making a mess as he squirted a chunk of toothpaste onto the brush. Wetting it, he emotionlessly stared at himself in the mirror for a long moment, disregarding the tears that continued to stubbornly paint his red, blotchy face with wetness. Rubbing his runny nose into the fabric of his sleeve, not caring if it got dirty, Scott continued on into his long-forgotten routine.

            It didn’t even matter, at that point.

            Scott didn’t enjoy the minty flavor of the toothpaste.

            He didn’t enjoy the warmth of the running water on his naked body.

            He didn’t enjoy the refreshing sensation of getting clean.

            Or that feeling of combing the last tangle from his hair.

            He didn’t even enjoy it when he petulantly threw all of Reyes’ shit carelessly on the floor, shoving it angrily off of the bed.

            He didn’t enjoy the softness of Reyes’ clothes.

            Or the fact that the bed was the comfiest thing he had felt in years.

            He didn’t even care that he had left his knife on the seat across from Reyes.

            He didn’t care.

            It didn’t matter.

            But, for some reason, his tears didn’t stop.

            Not even when he succumbed to that first wink of sleep.

*****

            While Scott busied himself in the shower, Reyes was already mentally berating himself for his overreaction, pulling up his messenger once again, clicking onto Keema’s name.

**R: Guess who.**

**K: Sloane, is that you?**

            Reyes scowled, rolling his eyes at his Second’s antics.

**R: Haha, you’re so funny.**

**K: I know I am.**

            Another alert pinged before Reyes could respond.

**K: Nice to know you’re already on your way back, btw.**

**R: Who told you?**

**K: You should know by now that your eyes are my eyes, darling.**

**K: Nothing gets past me.**

**R: Oh… Scary.**

**K: Was there something else you wanted? Besides pestering me that is.**

**R: But you love when I pester.**

**K: Reyes…**

**R: I’m only teasing. Decided that the city deserves a break tonight. Mind getting word out?**

**K: I think you mean that we ALL deserve a break. Thanks for telling me so late. That means I need to get some of our representatives out to the local mayors and police chiefs. Yay for me.**

**R: Please, do have fun with it.**

**K: Hmm… what should it be this time? Bribery or blackmail? I do love their reactions when they realize that their “secrets” aren’t so secret anymore.**

           Reyes chuckled, smirking as he typed out his reply.

**R: Surprise me.**

**K: Don’t tempt me like that. I have a tendency to take things a bit too far.**

**R: No such thing as “too far.” ;)**

**K: Definitely not in our business.**

**K: You know… someone isn’t going to be happy about this celebration of yours.**

**R: Too bad I have no fucks to give when it comes to Sloane’s high-and-mighty opinion.**

**K: Likewise. Just warning you. We’ll need to set up some major security details for the next week or two.**

**R: Especially tonight.**

Reyes sighed, knowing that normally no syndicate leaders would dare attack on such nights. For some odd reason that Reyes never understood, once a leader had temporarily revoked the curfew in an area, it became an unspoken rule that it was off-limits for that allotted timeframe, probably because of the increased potential for civilian casualties. Either way, any good crime lord knew that it was best to stay prepared, no matter the circumstances.

**R: Offer a bonus to anyone that works security tonight. And let the guards know that hours are increasing for the next two weeks.**

**R: The last thing we need is an incident happening on our turf.**

**R: Also, meeting tomorrow. Usual time.**

**K: I’ll let them know, but there is another matter…**

Raising an eyebrow, Reyes typed out his curious response.

**R: What now?**

**K: First off, you’re giving us the night off.**

**R: And…?**

**K: I’m not going to be babysitting when I could be out at a fight or a race.**

Reyes read between the lines, knowing his friend too well.

**R: Perfect places to pick up a warm willing body to take home.**

**K: I don’t know what you’re talking about, darling.**

**R: Yeah… ok, bring the girls by when you’re ready.**

**K: Can do. Now. The second thing. What’s this I hear about a man on your plane?**

**R: Word gets around fast.**

**K: You say that like you don’t know this already.**

**K: Is he a recruit then?**

Reyes responded instantly.

**R: Definitely not.**

**K: Ohh… testy. Who is he, and why is he there?**

**R: You’re so nosy. Long story short, he’ll be staying with me.**

**K: What?! You never let me stay the night.**

**R: Oh, but it would just be too much for my poor soul. I’d surely spontaneously combust if I had to be around someone so flawless for so long.**

**K: Please, do go on more about my flawlessness.**

**R: Is that the time already? Have to go. We’re going to land soon. See you later.**

**K: You’re still an hour and half away.**

**K: Ass.**

**K: Don’t think that this means you can get out of this either. We apparently have a LOT to discuss.**

**K: Hmm… should I bring wine or whiskey tomorrow?**

            Of course, Keema knew damn well what Reyes would answer _that_. And, while Reyes tried his best to keep up the silence, he knew that she would end up bringing nothing but a bottle of her favorite wine if he didn’t respond. She absolutely adored it when she trapped him like this, and she would easily brush off his complaints when she showed him visual proof that “he didn’t ask for a specific drink,” claiming that he gave her no indication otherwise as to which he preferred.

**R: Whiskey, and you know that.**

Now, it was Reyes’ turn to get the silent treatment, but he let her win this round, putting his phone away as he stood up and stretched.

            Suddenly realizing what Keema had said about the time, he frantically picked his phone back up to confirm what she had said. Throwing it back down, Reyes marched over to the door, concerned with how long Scott had been in there. Trying the handle, he swore when it jiggled uselessly in his hand, the door sealed tightly shut.

            Banging his fist on it noisily, Reyes called out to Scott worriedly, his mind racing with all of the possible, worst-case scenarios. Heart racing in fright, Reyes was on the verge of kicking the door in, but it proved not to be necessary.

            After a minute or two of his pleading yells, the door seemingly opened of its own accord, and Scott peeked out of the thin opening through bleary, bloodshot eyes. Shuffling on his feet, his frail body attempted to bar Reyes from entering, but Reyes wasn’t deterred in the slightest.

            Relieved that Scott was okay, he shoved his way into the room and noticed that his stuff was thrown out onto the floor, his bed left in a sloppy disarray. Scott felt his stomach sink as Reyes continued to look around judgmentally, ready for retribution.

            But it never came.

            Instead, Reyes simply swooped down to gather up his supplies and his clothing, stuffing everything back into their appointed bags.

            Hesitantly, afraid that Reyes was merely biding his time to punish him, Scott sank down to the ground and started helping him repack. Feeling the tears rising up, he did his best to flick them away, but more just kept coming. Their persistence soon built up, blinding Scott until he could no longer tend to the task at hand.

            Burying his face into his hands, hating himself for messing everything up, he tried his best to beat down the crushing weight of disappointment and sadness. He tried so hard to battle this sinking feeling, but the inevitable disaster kept on clutching at him like quicksand, and all of his fight felt as if was to no avail. It felt like it was nothing but a meaningless struggle, one that Scott couldn’t possibly win.

            Hearing Scott’s mournful whimpers, partnered with those wounded sniffles, Reyes stopped what he was doing and looked up to the younger man.

            He didn’t think twice about his next move (although he should have), pulling Scott into a loose embrace, providing him with a way out, if need be.

            When Scott’s arms locked around his neck, however, tightening their hold in acceptance, Reyes squeezed the younger man against him in response. Burying his face into Scott’s shoulder, Reyes gave several, shuddering breaths while Scott’s harmless whimpers digressed into loud, agonized wails. Helpless, desiring nothing more than to be able to save Scott from his demons, Reyes knew that there was little else that he could offer that would effectively ease those hellish fires. Nothing beyond his presence, that is, but even that wasn’t much help when facing such a vicious torment.

            While Scott blubbered on unintelligibly, something about forgiveness, Reyes cooed at him in reassurance, reminding him that Reyes wasn’t leaving, that he and Scott would be home soon enough. Together. Scott was so oblivious in Reyes’ eyes. Why couldn’t he see that he had the older man already wrapped around his finger, left utterly at his mercy?

            _Probably because you were being an asshole to him,_ Reyes’ conscience informed him in exasperation. Right.

            Regardless of what had happened, though, Reyes determinedly vowed to fix this, to help Scott and him establish some semblance of control amid this chaotic whirlwind that they were falling into. He would give Scott everything he had, in hopes that it would one day help soothe his suffering.

            Someone might say that this was another step towards winning Scott’s trust.

            But Reyes felt no such victory.

            Together, they sat, and they comforted. Two shattered souls laid bare, the ever-vigilant darkness closing in.

*****

            Scott was scared for his life, and he was pretty positive that he was going to die.

            If he wasn’t dead already.

            Though, if this was the afterlife that he was eternally bound to, he seriously wanted a refund. Because, while Scott had expected the horrific traffic that came with travelling through a congested city, he certainly hadn’t anticipated how horrible the drivers were.

            If he wasn’t dead by now, Reyes was surely going to kill them with _his_ driving.

            It wasn’t even that Reyes was bad, per se, not whenever he expertly wove through the familiar lanes with that experienced, ostentatious flare of his. Maybe he was just being reckless. But, either way, he was obviously trying to show off to Scott, putting the silver sports car through its paces, grinning at the younger man wickedly every once in a while. Honks and Spanish were eagerly being thrown around between aggravated drivers, each person’s agenda holding precedence over everyone else’s on the road. Overall, it was quite maddening, but somehow exhilarating.

            Gulping soundly, Scott desperately clutched at the leather seat when Reyes decided to push the car a tad bit further, accelerating just a wee bit more, enough to put Scott on edge. With the car’s top down, Scott couldn’t help but to giggle gleefully at the fresh spike of adrenaline, relishing how the fresh breeze and the warm sunshine lapped eagerly at his skin. It felt nice to feel the sun’s refreshing rays once again, and it felt wonderful to be able to truly take a moment to simply soak it all in, and he was definitely taking advantage now.

            Following that little hiccup that they had on the airplane, the time had seemed to pass by in a speedy blur. After tucking Scott back into the bed, Reyes had taken his own shower and returned to the couch to catch what bits and pieces of shuteye that he could, dealing with his work-related issues in between his catnaps. It hadn’t been long before Reyes had started shaking Scott awake, dragging his sluggish body back into his chair for landing.

            And, once they had landed, they sped through their private sector of the Miami International Airport, Reyes hurriedly rushing Scott along towards their appointed garage. Leading him up to the sleek car, knowing that his crew would deliver any and all luggage that he left behind, Reyes had been eager to open Scott’s door for him, settling him in quickly, wanting to get Scott home, and soon.

            Now, speeding down the streets of his new city, Reyes at his side, Scott felt a tiny bubble burst in his chest, sending a wild dose of happiness flooding through his system, hoping to fill every nook and cranny that it could reach.

            Looking past the sunglasses that Reyes had loaned him, Scott observed the other man with a content, dopey smile stretching across his face.

            Appearing absolutely relaxed, poised in his own element, Reyes radiated in a way that left Scott breathless. It wasn’t even anything remotely sexual. It was just an appreciation of the fact —and it is, indeed, a _fact_ — that Reyes is a devilishly handsome man.

            _Very aesthetically pleasing,_ Scott thought wryly, chastising himself for getting swept away in those thoughts again. He tried to angle his body towards the door, leaning slightly against it while he watched the white, puffy clouds pass by overhead, the bright sunshine penetrating through them.

            It was difficult, though. A futile effort really, especially since Reyes was simply sitting there, unknowingly looking like someone that had popped straight out of a magazine. With the wind combing through his dark hair, mussing it entirely, Reyes was clad in a simple —yet attractive— getup. Donning a white button-down, the shirt was haphazardly closed and untucked, numerous buttons left undone, exposing a generous eyeful of his chest. His tennis shoes matched his shirt, a blindingly bright white, and his pants were made from a soft, airy fabric, stained a professional gray that tied the outfit together. Although it was everyday attire to Reyes, Scott couldn’t help but to admire the older man’s senseless beauty.

            Reyes eyed him from his peripheral vision, catching him in the act of his not-so-discreet staring. Scott flushed when Reyes spotted him, averting his eyes in embarrassment.

            “What?” Reyes asked curiously, glancing at him over his own set of shades. Scott shook his head quickly. Too quickly.

            “’S nothing,” Scott replied, watching as the expansive city flew by.

            “Mhmm…” Reyes hummed in disbelief, heading onto the causeway that accessed Miami Beach. Scott raised an eyebrow.

            “You live on the actual beach?” Scott asked disbelievingly. Reyes shrugged nonchalantly.

            “Waterfront property and all,” he affirmed.

            “Okay, there’s no way that a smuggler can afford _all of this_ ,” Scott prodded, but it didn’t seem to faze Reyes in the slightest.

            “You’d be surprised,” Reyes countered, giving Scott a stiffly thin smile. “But, no, this isn’t all from smuggling. I…” _How to explain, without sounding vague?_ “…came into possession of a great deal of wealth some years back.” _Yeah, that_ totally _won’t pique his curiosity._ “So, being younger and stupid, I rewarded myself by spending a lot of it. I barely made a dent, but ‘all of this,’ as you say, is actually a lot less compared to what I _had_.”

            “You mean that there was more?” Scott scoffed, finding it impossible to wrap his mind around such a notion, but not needing verbal confirmation to comprehend the honesty in Reyes’ voice. He allowed Reyes to slip by with that flagrant ambiguity. This time.

            At least he was trying to open up, in his own way.

            Scott had another inquiry, however. “For someone that supposedly likes ‘discretion,’ you don’t seem to mind showing off your flashy toys.”

            “Which, around here, it’s not only accepted, but it’s _expected_ ,” Reyes pointed out. “It doesn’t hurt that I make all of my purchases under an alias, of course, and most people in the underground barely know the name, ‘Reyes Vidal.’ As far as the majority is concerned, I’m nothing more than some ‘third-rate smuggler.’” Reyes had to stop himself from spitting out that last bit in distaste, pride wounded. Surely he was better than third-rate…

            “But, you _are_ something more,” Scott said, not so much as asking more than telling. Reyes kept quiet at that, neither denying nor agreeing, and Scott huffed at him in irritation.

            Spending the rest of their ride in peaceful silence, aside from the intruding noises of the Miami traffic, Scott continued to sightsee from his perch on the door, his light blue eyes darting about frantically beneath his glasses, drinking in the landscape thirstily. It was gorgeous to gaze at, and it ended all too soon.

            Pulling into a large, fenced-in property, Reyes turned the car into his massive driveway, slowing the vehicle down to a sluggish roll. Trees reinforced the tall gate’s boundaries, furthering the illusion of privacy, and Reyes stopped before a thick, automated fence, turning to a little stand that stood attentively at the driver’s side. Pressing his left palm to the black interface, a bright, blue, neon light sparked to life at the top of the console, following a downwards path in order to scan the entirety of Reyes’ hand. It did this a few times, searching thoroughly along the surface, and it finally gave a content beep after a minute or two, once it found no perceived faults. Hearing the gate click as it unlocked, the black metal spread its arms welcomingly, and Reyes drove forward, giving Scott the first view of his new home.

            Scott had thought that the jet was amazing, but this— this was _way_ too much. After all, he had expected a house, not a fucking castle!

            Brain short-circuiting, mind shutting down, the scale of Reyes’ mansion was utterly mind-boggling. All of this… for _one_ person?

            _Well, two now, I suppose,_ Scott corrected himself, jaw falling slack while Reyes parked the car in front of his garage.

            Scott barely acknowledged the opening and shutting of Reyes’ door, not until the man himself was standing outside of Scott’s door, smugly smirking down at him in amusement. Closing his mouth self-consciously, Scott scrambled out of the car clumsily, returning the sunglasses to Reyes. Throwing both pairs back into the car, Reyes took Scott playfully by the wrist and towed him along to the entrance of the two-story, Mediterranean monstrosity.

            Scott will admit it. It was kind of intimidating.

            Only kind of.

            Was there a protocol that came with moving into a stranger’s mansion?

            Oh, God, what has Scott gotten himself into?

            Following behind, restraining himself from digging his feet into the tiled ground, Scott waited patiently while Reyes placed his palm over his door handle, allowing it to scan his personal chip that was injected into his hand. The light above the panel changed from a deep, crimson red to an emerald green, indicating that he was authorized to enter.

            Opening the two, elegant doors with his favored, dramatic flourish, Reyes stepped aside and waved his hand in with an elaborate gesture. Balking, Scott glanced at Reyes anxiously, skittering his way into the room.

            “Welcome home,” Reyes murmured, kicking the doors closed behind them.

*****

            Although he was overwhelmed, Scott managed to pull himself together enough to last until the end of the tour. Reyes led him throughout the entirety of the colossal house, naming out every room, opening some doors, but leaving others closed. Scott didn’t pry much, nodding and listening, idly wondering if Reyes had a map of the place that Scott could borrow. He wouldn’t be surprised if he got lost on his first few days, because the place literally had almost everything you could think of. Two master bedrooms (one of which would now be Scott’s), two en-suites, an endless amount of guest rooms, a gourmet kitchen, a movie theater, a professional-grade gym… The list went on and on. It wasn’t until Reyes led Scott towards the backyard that Scott’s brain finally caught a break, unsettled by the rapid influx of information.

            Once Reyes threw open the doors to the backyard, however, they were immediately greeted by the sight of a luscious courtyard, teeming with life and filled to the brim. A giant fountain was nestled in the center of a display of fancy stonework, gurgling and bubbling cheerfully, and the walls and ground were overflowing with all sorts of plants and flowers, creating a vivid collage of colors and aromas.

            Inhaling appreciatively, Scott stepped forward curiously, letting his fingertips trail over the plants softly, as light as a lover’s caress.

            “ _You_ have a garden?” Scott teased, strolling away from the flower that he had been examining, skimming over the fountain and approaching a nearby bench.

            Reyes grumbled under his breath. “It’s a _courtyard_ , and there’s nothing wrong with a man that enjoys flowers,” he puffed petulantly, crossing his arms across his chest in defense, walking leisurely towards Scott’s position.

            “Oh, don’t worry. It’s not a thing about masculinity,” Scott snickered. “More about the fact that you’re a criminal… that likes flowers.”

            “Yeah, yeah, laugh it up,” Reyes sighed, tensing a bit once he reached Scott’s destination, watching while the younger man bent forward to get a better look at something.

            Of course, Reyes should’ve known that he would notice _that._

            “Who’s Antonia?” Scott whispered gently, thumbing curiously at the small, silver plaque that was centered on top of the bench. In swirling, flowing cursive, a single name was engraved into the metal: _Antonia Vidal._

Yeah, Reyes should’ve known, should’ve planned ahead of time, in case something like this had been brought up (which was an inevitability now that someone else was living with him), should’ve been prepared for Scott’s inherent curiosity to get the better of him.

            He should’ve been over it.

            But the name brought on a fresh wave of pain, chasing after buried memories and old hurts, as if there hadn’t been any healing performed in the first place. There was a reason why Reyes never lingered in the courtyard for too long, desiring nothing more than to evade the ghosts of his past.

            Reyes had made this mistake earlier, though, and he refused to blame Scott for asking. He could be as cryptic as he liked, but Scott shouldn’t bear the brunt of his destructive emotions. No, that was his burden to carry alone.

            “My mother,” Reyes said hoarsely, voice cracking. When Scott glanced up to catch his gaze, Reyes looked stubbornly away and roughly cleared his throat, examining the area around him critically. “She always did want a garden.” Before he could spill any other secrets, elaborating beyond what was necessary, he turned on his heel and marched out of the courtyard, leaving Scott alone with his buzzing thoughts.

            Faltering in place, Scott gave the area one final sweep of his eyes, his stare lingering on that silver plaque the longest. Eyebrows furrowing, more questions invaded his brain than ever before. With regards to Reyes Vidal, it was as if two doors closed for every one that Scott opened.

            But some part of Scott was determined to open them all.

            He only hoped that he wouldn’t regret it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hoped you like the bits and pieces of Reyes Vidal that we got in this chapter. So far, I have his background in this 'verse pretty planned out, but there are still some holes that I'm trying to cover.
> 
> Nevertheless, thanks so much for reading! <3


	6. No Going Back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scott wants in, and Reyes isn't happy about that.  
> At all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part 2 of my first double post. Not much that I have to say right now.
> 
> CHAPTER WARNINGS: Unhealthy Relationships, Reyes being an emotionally-constipated asshole
> 
> Enjoy!

            Exiting the courtyard’s beautiful scenery, Scott stepped further into the backyard, treading lightly onto the well-manicured lawn. A sea of vibrant, grassy green stretched out lazily before him, and the crisp, healthy grass crunched sharply under the weight of his shoes.

            Beyond the grass, there laid a long, enormous pool that stretched across a solid portion of the yard, a streak of crystal blue against the lively green backdrop. On the other half of the yard, there sat a pavilion-like structure, constructed for outdoor entertainment. And, beyond all of that, there was one lone pier, meant for Reyes’ use only, housing an individual boat that bobbed to the water’s unending tune.

            Spotting Reyes at the edge of the pool, Scott made his way across the lawn. Once he was at the man’s side, he noticed that Reyes had taken off his socks and shoes, setting them aside, and had rolled his pants legs up far enough to dip his limbs into the water, calves-deep. Following his example, Scott was soon settled in at his side, the sun beaming down on them, a gentle breeze dancing off of the ocean’s neighboring waves.

            Knowing that he was going to have to initiate this conversation, Scott nudged Reyes’ shoulder with his own. For a brief moment, he was tempted to lay his head on the other man’s shoulder in comfort, but he knew that he wasn’t ready for that intimate closeness to anyone. Not yet, at least.

            Besides, they were both obviously dealing with their own problems.

            “Hey,” Scott murmured, nudging Reyes again to garner his full attention, kicking his legs lazily in the sparkling water. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know that she was a sensitive subject for you.”

            Reyes chuckled emotionlessly. “Nothing to be sorry for.”

            “Huh,” Scott grunted. “Doesn’t feel that way. Maybe I should just stop asking questions from now on.”

            “Nah,” Reyes said, his tone reassuring. “Don’t mind me. You can ask as many questions as you want.”

            “But…” Scott coaxed.

            “But don’t be surprised if I don’t give you the answers you’re looking for,” Reyes explained. “Or if I don’t answer at all.”

            “Well, then, I hope you understand that the same goes for me.”

            “I hear you loud and clear, Scott.” They continued to swirl their feet in the water, enjoying the rejuvenating coolness that sluiced over heated skin. “Speaking of questions, you asked me about my role in all of this.”

            “I did,” Scott confirmed, scrutinizing the water carefully, his fingers clutching at the edge, “and you promised to explain things.”

            “I did,” Reyes echoed, running a hand through his disheveled hair. Where to start? “How much do you already know of the underground, exactly?”

            “About as much as you’d expect a whore to know,” Scott deadpanned, earning a nasty glare from Reyes.

            “I thought we agreed _not_ to call you that,” Reyes hissed. Scott glowered in return.

            “You trying to avoid that subject isn’t going to erase the four years of my life that I spent in that hellhole, Reyes,” Scott said evenly, anger brewing within. “And, to answer your question, I guess that I don’t know much. I could barely grasp what I learned about Cerberus from their guards, and I had been an everyday citizen before then, once upon a time. Didn’t have a clue that you lot even existed for the majority of my life.”

            “Just like everyone else?”

            “Just like everyone else.”

            Reyes sighed, blinking up at the sky in thought, pursing his lips.

            “I won’t bore you with _all_ of the gritty details,” he began, “but, simply put, there’s an order to how the underground operates. A hierarchy, if you will.

            “At the top, we have the syndicates. These are your most powerful organizations, the ones that are loosely modeled after the older, American Mafia. The syndicates have their own chain of command, and each group is unique. No two are identical in their operations, their leadership, their merchandise, etcetera. These are the most structured of all groups, and each are led by what we call a First and a Second. The First also goes by other, more common titles: crime lord, syndicate leader, so forth and so on.

            “Then, underneath the syndicates, we have the Clans. The Clans basically label themselves as families, and they will get easily offended if you don’t address them as such. Each member must undergo a series of gruesome rites in order to earn their place, whether they were born into the Clan or not, and these are the greatest, most experienced fighters that the underground could possibly provide. More often than not, their services usually fall to the syndicates. Pay them enough, way more than you would pay your average syndicate member, and they’ll be happy to play war with you.

             “And, underneath the Clans, we have the group that we can classify as ‘the others.’ That’s the gangs, the freelancers, the mercs, the smugglers…” Reyes smirked pointedly at that. “Well, you get the idea. Those are the people and groups that have little-to-no structure. The ones that mainly operate on their own terms. The ones that know better than to interfere in the syndicates’ turf wars.”

            “Okay, so, where do you fall into that hierarchy?” Scott questioned.

            “I told you before that I was a smuggler,” Reyes stated bluntly, prompting a scowl onto Scott’s face.

            “And I still call bullshit,” Scott snapped, getting impatient.

            Reyes inspected the younger man before him, narrowing his eyes, but Scott simply met his stare challengingly, fully prepared to hold his ground. Impressed, Reyes grinned.

            “Before I tell you, you have to promise me something, Scott.”

            “What?”

            “There are few people in this world that know who I am. If word got out, it could mean a lot of bad stuff would happen to a lot of good people that are under my command, and I refuse to let that happen.”

            “You still haven’t asked for anything.”

            “I know.” Reyes blew a deep breath out of his nose, nostrils flaring. “If I tell you who I am, and if someone captures you, you cannot let them know about me or my syndicate. Under _any_ circumstances.”

            “You’re asking me to possibly die for this?” Scott squawked incredulously, realizing the weight of what he was demanding. Reyes’ eyes never left his face, attempting to communicate the seriousness that this situation commanded.

            “Hypothetically, yes,” Reyes stated coldly. Before Scott could protest, he went on. “Don’t think that I asked this lightly from _any_ of my members. I wouldn’t have asked them, if I hadn’t been prepared to do so myself. Besides, we are still talking in ‘what if’s here, and rescue is always top priority if my members are taken. Like I said, though, this is all a moot point. _No one_ will take you, Scott.” _Especially not away from me. Their time in this world will be limited if they so much as try._

Hearing the steely determination in Reyes’ voice, coated in a honeyed layer of possessiveness, some part inside of Scott wanted so badly to believe in Reyes’ words, but another part was frightened off entirely. His intensity left Scott reeling, pulled in half from both sides, so Scott ignored the conflicting emotions for a moment and fell quiet, starting to think things over. One thing stuck out to Scott, though, in all of his memories. But, first…

            “Tell me,” Scott breathed, meeting Reyes’ stern glare with his own. “Everything.”

            So, Reyes told him as much as he dared, not wanting to dive into the intricacies of his syndicate’s policies. Instead, he told him all about the Charlatan persona, how it came about from repeatedly disrupting Sloane’s plans, and how it grew into something much bigger than he had ever hoped. By the end of it all, Scott was nodding along, accepting it all in stride.

            Suspiciously, and with good cause, Reyes was starting to worry about that, imagining a completely different reaction from Scott. He was about to ask after him, but Scott beat him to the punch.

            “You and that Shepard guy… I heard you mention before that you never found the man that was in charge of that facility,” Scott announced, startling Reyes with that unexpected turn. Alarms and sirens were blaring in Reyes’ mind, alerting him that something was wrong with Scott’s tone, so he proceeded with a wary caution.

            “Nothing that we won’t fix soon enough,” Reyes reassured him uneasily.

            _Of course he wouldn’t get it,_ Scott thought, readying for the explosion.

            “I want in,” Scott stated, getting right to the point.

            Stiffening, Reyes choked on a hysterical laugh, not quite believing what he had just heard.

            “Into what?” he retorted, playing dumb.

            “Should I paint you a picture to help you understand it better?” Scott replied sarcastically. “I. Want. _In._ ”

            “Hell. To. The. _No_ ,” Reyes mocked him, snarling out the last word in hatred. Reyes abruptly stood, gathering his shoes and socks into his hands, marching off into the grass, bare feet be damned. “Don’t you dare ask me that again.”

            “That’s not fair!” Scott yelled indignantly, swiping up his stuff and rushing after the other man.

            “Life’s not fair,” Reyes shot back, pushing his way back through the courtyard and back inside, tossing his stuff aside carelessly. “You have no business with the Collective. End of discussion.”

            “Are you fucking serious?!” Scott snarled, throwing his stuff into Reyes’ pile, lest he be tempted to throw a shoe at Reyes’ stupid face. Before the Charlatan could get far, Scott grasped at his arm in fury, jerking him back with a surprising force. Reyes turned, eyes boring into Scott’s with an anger that could make the Devil cower. Scott merely stared back, unimpressed. “Out of all of the people in this world, I’m one of the few that actually deserves to gut that bastard. He _ruined my life,_ and you’re just going to sit there and tell me that I can’t help you find him?!”

            “That’s exactly what I’m doing,” Reyes sneered. “Glad that we’re on the same page.”

            Before Scott could reply, a buzzing sound interrupted them, coming from the direction of the front door, startling both men where they stood. Reyes recovered first, about to head that way, but Scott refused to let go until he was heard.

            “This conversation isn’t over,” Scott warned. Reyes peeled his hand away.

            “Really? Because I believe that it is,” Reyes dismissed, walking across the room, leaving a fuming Scott behind.

            Approaching the security monitor near his door, a lone screen embedded into the wall, Reyes raised his finger to the live feed that was broadcasting. Swiping until he found the desired camera, settled on top of his fence with a wide view of the gate’s entrance, the footage showed him none other than Keema, arriving right on time, if Reyes had any say.

            Reyes’ playfulness instantly returned, provoked by his closest friend’s arrival. He pressed the buzzer on his side, taunting her lightly through the speaker. “What’s the password?”

            She instantly caught on, chiming the murderous words in a cheerful, sing-song voice. “Off with her head!” Neither one had to mention who the dreaded “her” was.

            “And long live the king,” Reyes agreed, pressing the appropriate button on the touchscreen panel to open the fence.

            Stepping outside, mindful of Scott catching up behind him, still simmering in his anger, both men waited beside each other as Keema slid her car in next to Reyes’. A commotion sprang up in the car, but Scott could see little beyond the tinted windows, watching as a tall, beautiful woman slid gracefully from the vehicle.

            Standing on a pair of tall, white wedges, the gorgeous woman honestly didn’t need the additional height, already sporting her natural, six-foot frame and her subtle curves. With chocolate-colored skin and deep blue eyes, hidden behind a pair of white-framed sunglasses, she stood with the confidence of a woman that knew her own worth. Posture perfected, chin raised high, she had a perfect, angular face with high cheekbones and a strong, regal jawline that could probably cut diamonds, if prompted. Her long, curly, black hair was straightened for once, pouring over her shoulders in lustrous waves, teasing at the cleavage of her halter-style neckline, her white, flowy jumpsuit dancing in the soft breeze that trickled through the air.

            Shuffling uncomfortably in his spot behind Reyes, Scott felt his stomach give a rough jerk at the woman’s elegant appearance, his mind racing with all of the possible implications that her presence (at Reyes’ home, no less) provoked. While Scott hadn’t ever been attracted to anyone outside of men, that didn’t mean that he was blind. He could clearly tell when others —women and non-binary— were beautiful in their own right.

            Even knowing that, it did little to stop the jealousy that coursed through him.

            He watched in confusion while the woman turned in place and opened the back door.

            Instantly, they were swarmed in a pile of fur as two leaping bodies bounded towards Reyes.

            The older man practically cooed at the medium-sized, pouncing dogs, kneeling down to greet the two Border Collies, one spattered with black and white markings, the other with golden tan and white. Scott watched on, his mind still utterly befuddled by this unusual turn of events. He hadn’t ever entertained the idea that Reyes could be a dog person, of all things, his mind having been clouded by the whole “criminal mastermind” thing he had going for him. It was… strange, linking something so human with a man that wasn’t ashamed of his crimes, whether it be something as small as thievery to something as significant as murder. The contradiction continued to weigh on Scott’s mind.

            Until a snout was suddenly at his butt.

            Squeaking in shock, Scott batted at the intrusion, glaring at the black and white dog as she regarded the stranger in apparent confusion, her brown eyes wide and trusting, her tail flapping happily.

            “No, Pip,” Reyes scolded firmly, tossing her a sharp glare. Ears falling, she gave a brief whine, bowing her head as she scooted back towards Reyes’ side, her sister watching everything with bright, intelligent eyes. Keema snorted, making her way over to Scott as Reyes surrendered to Pip’s puppy eyes and began petting her again.

            “He spoils them way too much, if you ask me,” Keema said, rolling her eyes at their antics. “Then he wonders why they’re such daddy’s girls. But, let me not get ahead of myself.” The woman shoved her hand at Scott. “Keema Dohrgun. I’m Reyes’ friend.”

            “And my Second,” Reyes interjected, standing up as the two dogs got distracted, chasing after some butterflies that made their way into the yard. Keema threw him a curious look, a delicately arched eyebrow jumping up in disbelief.

            “He _knows_?” she asked venomously, voice dropping, questioning Reyes’ mental health. Reyes met her headstrong gaze with one of his own.

            “Yep,” Reyes responded, popping the ‘p’ of the word playfully. Keema was not amused.

            Taking the woman’s hand, hoping to diffuse the suddenly volatile situation, Scott shook her smooth, polished hand in a firm handshake. She squeezed his back in response, her strong grip unrelenting, her blue eyes scrutinizing him in distrust.

            “Scott Ryder,” he introduced, worming his hand out of her iron-like grip. Flexing it at his side, trying to renew feeling into the area, he watched as Reyes glared at Keema with a knowing look.

            “Well, if that was all, you should be heading back, surely,” Reyes said hastily, not wanting to deal with Keema’s ruthless interrogations right now. “Don’t you have to get ready for tonight?”

            “Are you going out tonight?” she deflected, not one to be dismissed on demand. Reyes sighed, watching Pip and Peanut bowl over each other in an attempt to reach the indifferent, soaring butterflies.

            “No, Scott and I will be staying in,” Reyes explained stoically. “We’ve had a long enough day, and we still have some errands to run before then.”

            _We do?_ Scott wondered, because this was the first time that he was hearing about these supposed “errands.” Keema looked between them quizzically, pursing her lips.

            “Fine,” she huffed, “I can take a hint, Reyes, but we still have the meeting tomorrow.”

            _At least I know where she’ll ambush me,_ Reyes thought wearily. She strutted over, bending over to give her friend a hug goodbye, both of them oblivious to Scott’s envious stare.

            Keema squeezed Reyes tightly, ignoring his wheeze of protest.

            “I’m going to be digging to find out more about this boy of yours,” Keema murmured protectively into his ear, way too low for said “boy” to overhear. Reyes was going to object, knowing that having Scott’s name and face was enough for Keema to work her magic, but Keema wasn’t having it, pulling back before he could voice his thoughts.

            “Not up for debate, darling,” Keema said lightly, turning towards Scott with a plastered-on smile. “Nice to meet you, Ryder. I’m sure we’ll be seeing each other again.”

            “Nice to meet you, too,” Scott mumbled, the sentence coming out more like a question than he intended. Keema didn’t pay it any mind, however, getting back into her car and driving off.

            “Well,” Reyes hummed, looking towards Scott, only to find the younger man missing from his previously-occupied spot. Pivoting on his feet, Reyes spotted Scott’s frame, just as it disappeared into the house.

            Grumbling to himself, Reyes quickly followed after, hearing the scrapes of nails that indicated that he had his two shadows following behind. Opening the door, the dogs sprang across the threshold eagerly, dashing in ahead of Reyes and disappearing to God-knows-where. Scott was already positioned on the couch, staring blankly at the TV.

            Reyes made his way over, settling in at his side. “Scott—”

            “Don’t,” Scott interrupted. “You have no idea what I’ve been through.”

            “You’re right. I don’t, but you joining the Collective isn’t the answer. Leave this to us.”

            Scott sat up straight, bristling as his eyes flamed to life. Now that he had introduced this new purpose into his mind, he was stubbornly sticking to it. “I’m not just going to sit around your fancy-ass mansion and do nothing all day. That—” He didn’t even deserve to be called a man. “— _monster_ is out there. And, if you’re going to be the ones to find him, _I want in._ ”

            Scott obviously wasn’t going to let this go, and Reyes wasn’t normally one to be questioned. He was always the man that was a step ahead in the underground’s complex games, the man that was always in control, even when you didn’t know he was, and to have his will questioned was unheard of. While Scott’s behavior would’ve probably been endearing under other circumstances, right now, it was ticking Reyes off.

            “Good thing that I’m the one in charge of the Collective then, so what you want doesn’t matter,” Reyes snipped.

            Something in Scott’s mind snapped at that, and pure, unadulterated rage sang through his veins. He felt his knife in his pocket, burning hot against his thigh, and his fingers twitched minutely.

            “I could always go find someone else that _will_ help me,” Scott bluffed, his voice hardening. Reyes had always been good at reading people, however, and he wasn’t afraid to call Scott out on that bullshit.

            “Yes, please, do go out there on your own and deal with this country’s most experienced criminals with nothing more than the clothes on your back and a puny knife,” Reyes muttered sarcastically. “I’m sure that will go over so well. Wonder what they will ask for in payment.”

            Scott winced at that low blow, his face flushing crimson in embarrassment. Averting his eyes, Scott drooped under Reyes’ gaze, the older man’s words leeching all of the fight from his body.

            Reyes immediately knew he went too far, cringing as soon as the words escaped his mouth. Unfortunately, his remorse didn’t make them any less true.

            “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that, but I’m just trying to protect you,” Reyes apologized softly, reaching out to brush his fingers against the back of Scott’s hand, testing.

            Scott pulled his hand away silently, grasping it with his other as if Reyes had physically burned him. Wonderful.

            So much for making progress.

            “Then you should protect me by teaching me the best ways to protect myself,” Scott countered. “You can’t be with me all of the time, and I deserve to be able to make my own choices. I didn’t come here to trade one jail cell for a larger, more expensive one.”

            As much as it pained him to say so, Reyes knew that Scott was right, that he was only speaking logically and reasonably, given their unique set of circumstances. Unfortunately, Reyes was backed into a corner on this one, no matter how much he hated it.

            He grunted in frustration.

            “Out of all of the things you could ask for, you ask for _this_. I could’ve sent you to college, got you a new job that’s perfectly legal. Bought you a car, a yacht, a goddamned star if you wanted. But, no, you ask me for the one thing that I shouldn’t even entertain the thought of giving you.”

            Scott smiled bitterly. “Could you really get me a star?”

            Reyes snorted bleakly. “Of course that would be what you got from that.” He sighed, rubbing his eyes tiredly. “Scott, have you even held a gun before?”

            “My father taught me all of the basics,” Scott defended, “but, no, I never held one. Everyday citizens can’t have them anymore, remember? And my family was never involved with the underground, so we never illegally obtained one, but that doesn’t mean that I can’t learn.”

            “You never held a gun before, and you’re talking about killing a man?” Reyes interjected skeptically. “Do you really think you can handle that? Taking someone’s life? I’ll admit that I’ve murdered before. It’s an inevitable part of my job description, and it’s a necessity in any war, legal or not. But _I’m_ well-aware of the weight that comes with each life that I take. Every single one, Scott, no matter what they’re guilty of. All of them have family, friends, loved ones… All of them are humans that have a story. They’re all mothers, fathers, sons, daughters, brothers, sisters… That man that you want so bad. He’s not going to be just some face with a name if—” Reyes catches Scott’s glare, and corrects himself. “— _when_ he’s caught.”

            “You think that I don’t know that? Reyes, to be honest, _I don’t care._ That bastard forfeited the right to all of that when he enslaved a bunch of innocent people for some quick cash.” Digging his fist into his eyelid, Scott tried to scrub the invasive images away. All he could see was the endless stream of slaves that trickled in and out of that facility for the past four years. Scott didn’t care if it wasn’t healthy. He wanted revenge. He wanted _blood,_ and that Archer guy was the perfect place to start. “You have no idea how many times I fantasized about getting my hands on one of them. Now, the damned leader of that cell has escaped, and it’s time that _someone_ was held accountable. I’m not kidding around here, Reyes. I said that I’m in, so that means that I’m all in. I… I can’t go back to that life of clueless normalcy. Not anymore. The underground left its mark on me, whether I like it or not, and I’m not about to turn back. You can either be my ally or my enemy in this, but there’s no in between.” Scott caught Reyes’ disturbed look and added in reassurance, “I’m sure of this.”

            _You say that now,_ Reyes thought. He shook his head, watching Scott’s expression darken, not believing that he was going to do this. “Okay.” Scott’s face brightened in bewilderment. Before he could get too excited, however, Reyes added, “But this isn’t on behalf of the Charlatan. You’re not working for the Collective.” As much as he respected those under his command, he didn’t want Scott anywhere near them.

            “You’re working for _me._ ”

            Reyes sincerely hoped that, after seeing what his lifestyle actually consisted of, Scott would change his mind. And soon.

            That didn’t subside his worry in the least. Reyes was certain that this would end with Scott either getting hurt or hating Reyes, especially after experiencing firsthand how bad of a man that Reyes truly was. Or worse, that Scott would decide that facing the underground alone was worth the risk, leaving Reyes behind for good, putting his own life in peril.

            Reyes couldn’t let that happen.

            He refused to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The original ending of this chapter was actually going to be way worse, especially in terms of their newly-formed relationship, but this one seemed to flow better for me in terms of plot and pace.
> 
> Plus, we got to meet Keema.
> 
> And Pipsqueak "Pip" and Peanut. Yes, I totally took advantage of the fact that Reyes is a dog person. I have no regrets.
> 
> Thanks for reading! <3


	7. My Sweet Prince

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reyes is dealing with his own nightmares, but Scott still has a ways to go before he can accept that this is his new life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My Author's Note/Rant will be at the end.  
> This is mostly a fluffy filler chapter that I desperately needed right now, but I promise that the plot will continue next time.
> 
> CHAPTER WARNINGS: Fluff and Pining (Yes, that's literally it.)

            _Why was this happening to him?_

 _It couldn’t be happening. It couldn’t be. Impossible. This wasn’t real. It_ wasn’t _real. She didn’t deserve this. Reyes might’ve deserved it, even then, but her and Pa? No, they were good people. Good people that deserved so much more than life had given them._

_If only the truth wasn’t staring him right in the face._

_Fingers entwined, palms sweating, hands shaking, heart racing, it was all too much. He wanted nothing more than to look away, but his body wouldn’t allow it. He had to see; he_ needed _to see. If this would be his last time seeing her, he couldn’t dare to miss a single detail, a single second._

_As Reyes tightened his grip on his mother’s hand, several bouts of yelling sprang up behind him, but Reyes couldn’t hear a word. There were too many voices around him, all speaking at once, increasing in volume until their desperate tones tangled into a steady roar of commotion. There was more yelling and arguing, but all Reyes could do was hold on as if his life depended on it._

_They couldn’t take her. Why would they take her away from him? This was all their fault, and she shouldn’t have to be the victim of_ their _negligence. It was all unfair._

_Reyes felt a strong, firm hand land on his shoulder. His father’s anguished voice followed right after._

_“Rey, let go,” he pleaded, his own tears trailing down weathered cheeks. Bags were resting under his bloodshot eyes, yet his entire expression was somehow emptied of all emotion. When it was clear that Reyes wasn’t going to surrender easily, his hand tightened meaningfully. “Please, don’t make this any harder._ Let go. _”_

_But Reyes couldn’t. Things weren’t that simple. This was his mother they were talking about_ _—his beautiful, wonderful, selfless mamá. This was the woman that risked life and limb over her boys. Surely he couldn’t leave her, not when she needed him most._

_Reyes’ father didn’t give him much choice. Confronted by the wild uproar suddenly surrounding them, Mateo Vidal couldn’t stand to be in the room any longer, wrapping his burly arms around his son’s waist and yanking with all of his might. When Reyes began struggling and resisting, Mat’s hand darted out forcefully. Shoving his fingers underneath Reyes’, he wrapped his hand awkwardly around his son’s and began digging his fingernails deeply into the rough skin. Feeling the sting rise to the surface, Reyes’ hand only twitched for a brief moment, but that was all the opening that Mateo needed to wrench his son away._

_Antonia’s fingers slipped free from her son’s, and it felt as if Reyes’ entire world came tumbling down._

Gasping for breath, darting upright in his bed, Reyes glanced frantically around his room for a few moments, trying desperately to regain his composure. The nightmare’s vivid imagery still lingered in the air, however, tainting everything with a bitter, metallic taste.

            Flopping backwards onto his supple mattress, Reyes stared up at the ceiling in quiet contemplation, dragging his hands tiredly over his face. Turning his head lazily to the side, he glanced at the clock on his bedside table.

            _4:57 A.M._ glowed happily back at him in a bright, glowing script.

“Fucking great,” Reyes swore aloud in aggravation, hoping that it would help relieve some of the tension built up from that dream —no, that _memory._

            It didn’t help at all.

            Throwing his arm over his face, burying his eyes into the crook of his elbow, Reyes grumbled and groaned in complaint at the empty room before him. He knew from experience that going back to sleep at this point would be impossible, so he threw the covers and sheets away from his body and sat on the edge of the bed. Rolling his neck experimentally, Reyes started going through the routine of stretching his muscles awake, relishing every creak and pop while he rolled the tension away.

            Once Reyes was alert enough to stand, he instantly set out to start his morning, beginning his day with a much-needed piss and a brush of his teeth. After he was done in the bathroom, he headed towards his bedroom to put on some workout clothes, darting out to the kitchen to grab a couple of water bottles before he could be detected.

            Of course, he should’ve known better by now. As soon as Pip and Peanut heard the slightest hint of motion in the house, they came skittering into view, eagerly circling around Reyes as they followed him to the gym. While he would’ve preferred to take them outside for their walk, he knew that they were going to simply whine and whimper and sniff at the door until he let them in, and Reyes knew that he would be powerless to resist then.

            All three of them entered the gym and instantly got to work. After Reyes helped the two onto their appointed treadmills, he quickly set up the stereo in the room with his workout playlist, warming up with some extensive stretching. Before long, he was making his usual circuit around the room, losing himself to the hypnotic tug and burn of a productive workout.        Swimming in a pool of sweet endorphins, Reyes let the last remnants of his dream slip free from his mind. He was so lost in his thoughts and his actions that he didn’t even notice it when Scott appeared at the door, leaning against the frame with bleary eyes and a sleepy scowl.

            Once he did catch sight of him, though, Reyes did his best to mask his surprise. Stumbling slightly on the treadmill, he tried to continue on as if nothing happened, but Scott saw it regardless.

            Grinning at the older man’s disgruntled expression, Scott waited until Reyes finished up to say anything, shutting off all of the equipment and music before he approached his new housemate. God, it was going to take some time for Reyes to adjust to having somebody else in the house.

            Not that he minded much, Reyes thought to himself, looking pointedly at the other man. After all, it was pretty difficult to complain, especially when Scott was standing there as he was, clad in some loose, light blue pajamas, yawning and rubbing his eyes in exhaustion. It was so terribly domestic and adorable, and Reyes had to distract himself from the sight, grabbing one of his water bottles to rehydrate.

            “Good morning,” Reyes greeted, grabbing one of the spare towels he kept handy, wiping away as much sweat as the fluffy fabric could absorb.

            Watching Pip flop onto the floor dramatically, panting from her morning exercise, Reyes chuckled when Peanut huffed at her sister in annoyance, tugging on her ear and nosing her belly in order to herd her out of the room. Pip didn’t move an inch, only adding to Peanut’s irritation as she began bouncing around the prone body in aggravation.

            “Morning,” Scott said softly, stifling another yawn.

            Reyes looked up, smiling gently. “Talking to me again?”

            Scott sniffed disdainfully. “We’ll see how long it lasts,” he replied hesitantly.

            Because he did, in fact, give Reyes quite the cold shoulder yesterday. After their little tiff, they had plenty of time in the day left to burn, and Reyes did have a shitload of errands to run for Scott’s unexpected stay. While many had spent their curfew-free evenings enjoying their temporary freedom, Scott and Reyes were confined to doing a lot of last-minute shopping. The main things on the list were clothes and toiletries and any other essentials that Scott felt like he needed. Reyes had refused to give him a price limit, but he also never pushed for Scott to take more than he wanted, unless Reyes knew for certain that the other man needed more than what he was taking.

            In those cases, such as when Reyes made it perfectly clear that Scott had to get more clothes than he had piled up, the two men normally ended up arguing in some shape or fashion until they were attracting unapologetic attention from any nearby shoppers. Neither actually cared much about the nosy spectators, and neither would surrender to the other easily.

            Nevertheless, Reyes ended up winning most of those arguments on sheer stubbornness alone, had even managed to talk Scott into letting Reyes buy him a cell phone, but Scott’s patience was at its absolute limit when Reyes offered to buy him a car, of all things. While Reyes could admit that he got caught up in the thrill of spoiling the younger man, Scott hated having all of this money doled out to him so freely because it only further emphasized the fact that Scott was deeply indebted to Reyes. Part of him was also convinced that Reyes was just waiting around for the right moment to ask Scott for some sort of “repayment” for such kindness, but the demand never came.

            That didn’t mean that it wouldn’t. Scott knew better than to expect anything else. Nothing was free, and everything had a price; it was impossible for Scott to see beyond his cynicism long enough to believe that some people did things out of the kindness of their hearts.

            Once the two had finished shopping, piling everything into one of Reyes’ more spacious cars, the two had then picked up the list of stuff that Dr. Chakwas had recommended for Scott: an array of dietary supplements to take until he was back to peak performance, some ointment and stool softeners to help ease his anal tearing, and a few over-the-counter remedies to help with any lingering soreness or pain.

            After that, there hadn’t been much else to do. Both men had returned home, and Scott had remained silent all throughout dinner. He had merely picked at his food, his mind running too fast and too busy for him to keep up with. Appetite spoiled and exhaustion thriving, he had excused himself and settled into his room for the rest of the night, falling into a fitful sleep.

            And if Scott had been a bit overwhelmed by all of it, had let a few tears of pain and confusion slip free from the abrupt transition he was undergoing…

            Well, that was no one’s business but his own.

            Apparently, he wasn’t doing a very good job at hiding it, though. While Scott had been swept away in his wave of thoughts, he hadn’t even noticed that Reyes had made his way over to Scott, standing before him and eyeing him worriedly.

            Scott only startled back to reality when a warm, shaky hand settled on his sunken cheek. Scott’s hand instantly darted up in response, latching viciously onto Reyes’ wrist in a sign of premature protest. Blinking up at the older man in bewilderment, Scott was going to demand to know what the hell Reyes thought he was doing, but all sound died in his throat once Reyes’ thumb started trailing an inquisitive path underneath Scott’s eyes. Undoubtedly, Reyes was appraising the redness and puffiness for himself, and he didn’t seem too happy with what he saw.

            An irrational sense of shame flooded his gut, and Scott could only hope that Reyes didn’t think that he was ungrateful for everything that had been given to him. On the contrary, he was endlessly grateful, but that didn’t change the fact that Scott was going to have a hectic time adjusting from one extreme to another. It was going to take time. No way around that.

            “Have you been crying?” Reyes asked softly.

            Scott shrugged helplessly, leaning his cheek further into Reyes’ rough hand, his own hand sliding up to support it.

            Damn it all. Part of him wanted so badly to recoil at the touch, to accuse Reyes of taking advantage at his first sign of vulnerability, but another part of him craved the soothing warmth that emanated from Reyes’ body. The man was like his own personal sun, blinding in his heat and his intensity, and Scott was selfishly relishing every sliver of skin that he dared touch.

            Four years of nothing but pain … Scott thought that there couldn’t possibly be anything positive to gain when it came to touching another human being. Not anymore, at least, but it was like Reyes’ presence alone was trying to personally prove him wrong.

            It all felt wrong. Scott shouldn’t like _any_ of this. He felt as if he was betraying himself and all of the others that had been in his situation, as if he was somehow selling himself to Reyes, letting it all happen without a second thought. He didn’t have any right to like someone being this close, to like the feeling of someone else’s skin on his own, not after what he’d been through.

            Hadn’t he learned the first time? How far was he going to let this go before he was nothing more than Reyes’ pet? His little slut to do with as he pleased?

            Squeezing Reyes’ hand in his, Scott ignored his heart’s indignant screeching while he pried the appendage away from his face, feeling his chest give an agonized lurch once Scott pushed it away carelessly.

            “I’m fine,” Scott replied, refusing to give Reyes an exact answer. “Just couldn’t sleep, is all.”

            “If you say so,” Reyes sighed dejectedly, his lips quirking up into a forced smile. “Want some breakfast?”

            As if it had been waiting around for those exact words, Scott’s stomach grumbled loudly at the mention of food, causing him to blush in chagrin while Reyes snickered. “Well, that’s answer enough. Go get settled in the kitchen. I’ll be out right after I shower.”

            “I’ll be there,” Scott said, sniffing dramatically at the air. Wrinkling his nose, he grinned cheekily. “Trust me, I don’t mind waiting. You seriously stink.”

            Reyes gasped dramatically, putting an affronted hand over his heart. “Excuse me? I’ll have you know that this is the scent of pure manliness.”

            “Well, ‘pure manliness’ needs an entire bottle of body wash because it stinks.”

            “Now, Scott, that’s just hurtful,” Reyes laughed, smirking wickedly. Scott instantly narrowed his eyes in distrust. “Of course, I reckon I _could_ forgive you.”

            “If…?”

            “If—” Reyes spreads his arms wide, waggling his eyebrows playfully. “—you give me a hug.”

            Scott’s eyes comically bulged in shock before he narrowed them again, forgetting all about his previous precautions once faced with Reyes’ silliness. He shifted his stance just slightly, edging slowly towards the hallway, taking in the amount of sweat that Reyes was still drenched in. Disgusting. “Reyes, don’t you dare.”

            It only took one flinch on Reyes’ part for Scott to bolt into action, darting out of the door and down the hallway with Reyes hot on his trail. Of course, once Pip and Peanut spotted what they were doing, they soon joined in on the chase as well, despite their previous exhaustion, barking and yipping with pure excitement and joy. Their game consisted of a lot of weaving in and out of the home’s many rooms, ducking behind and jumping over furniture of all sorts, and Scott was positive that Reyes could’ve caught him back at the gym with ease. Knowing that didn’t deter him in the slightest from enjoying his fleeing, laughing loudly and happily as he sprinted throughout the— well, _their_ house.

            Even once Reyes caught him, swinging him around in a sweaty embrace, Scott couldn’t stop beaming in exhilaration. Faking a gag, he kicked and squealed at Reyes’ relentless torture, shoving pointedly at the arms around his waist. At this point, Scott’s mind didn’t even spare a second thought at the playful hug, not when he was rolling around in a pit of pure happiness at the moment.

            Reyes couldn’t resist taking a second to admire that beautiful smile, his own grin stretching effortlessly across his face in response.

            “Let me down, Reyes,” Scott giggled, squirming uselessly. “Pretty sure this violates all kinds of employer-employee regulations.”

            Reyes rolled his eyes, moving to set Scott down. “And I’m pretty sure that living with your employer goes against most of those same regulations, but look at us now. Besides, perks of being the boss is making all of the rules, and I say that this is just fine.”

            “So inappropriate,” Scott chuckled, dropping onto his feet, his arms remaining locked around Reyes’ neck while Reyes’ hands hovered hesitantly over Scott’s waist.

            And just as quickly as Scott’s bright confidence came, it left again.

            Staring into Reyes’ caramel-colored eyes, hypnotized by the gooey warmth that rested within, Scott couldn’t resist reaching a hand out to push Reyes’ messy hair back from his face. Carding pale fingers through the black strands, Scott didn’t even care when his hand pulled away with an added layer of sticky perspiration; something in him simply couldn’t resist, no matter how much those two parts of him battled it out. He was split in halves over wanting to touch and wanting not to be touched, and it was so infuriating to feel like this. Like he was being pulled apart at the seams, all because of this one man.

            Scott just wanted some much-needed comfort right now.

            So he took it.

            Tightening his arms around Reyes’ neck, Scott pulled the bewildered man back into a deep, cozy hug. Unable to let go, he buried his face into the hollow of Reyes’ throat and sighed in contentment. Uncaring about all of the sweat, Scott breathed in Reyes’ musky scent before releasing a wobbly exhale, cherishing the soothing heat that cocooned his body.

            “I don’t think I’ve told you yet,” Scott mumbled apologetically, “but thank you, Reyes. For everything.”

            “Scott, really, it’s no problem,” Reyes said. “If you need _anything,_ you let me know. I’m here for you.”

            Scott sighed. “People who said that before lied to me.”

            “Well, I’m not lying about this. Not now and not ever,” Reyes stated vehemently.

            Leaving little room for argument, he tried his best to ignore the soft breaths that puffed against his skin, the light flutter of Scott’s eyelashes tickling his neck. Scott needed him now, and Reyes didn’t want to go ruining whatever _this_ was.

            “Yeah...” Scott sniffled, pulling back to wipe the newly-accumulated tears from his red eyes, chuckling bleakly as he gave Reyes a wobbly smile. “Sorry about all of the mood swings, by the way. God, look at me. I’m such a fucking mess.”

            This time, the laugh was more along the lines of self-deprecating, aimed fully at himself for being so emotional and needy.

            Reyes didn’t answer for a moment. Instead, he caressed Scott’s face with both hands, wiping the tears away with his thumbs, and Scott gently framed Reyes’ hands with his own, closing his eyes as he steadied his breathing.

            “Really? Because all I see is a man that’s been through a lot. A man that’s trying his best to cope with a situation that _no one_ deserves to be in. Mi dulce príncipe, you’re not weak for having emotions; and, all things considered, neither of us can rightfully expect for you to bottle it up all of the time. It’s not fair to put that weight on you to hide behind a mask.” Reyes hesitated, but he pressed on. “Dr. Chakwas mentioned seeking help. Good facilities aren’t easy to come by around here; but, if you feel as if you ever need one, I’ll search every inch of this world to make sure that you have one that’s right for you. I promise.”

            Of course, with the drug market’s prominent presence in the Southeast, especially in the territory under the Outcasts’ jurisdiction, rehab facilities are more than likely to feed their patients’ addictions, rather than cure them. Obviously, there are those rare facilities in America that are excellent at what they do, but that’s the thing. While they’re not non-existent, they’re _rare_ , and it would take a lot of dedicated searching to find them.

            Scott was worth the effort, but he was already shaking his head.

            “No. Absolutely not. No facilities. No hospitals. I—” Scott looked down at the ground. “I wouldn’t mind giving therapy a chance, but it has to be _here._ You have to be present; and, if I want a session to end, it has to end right then and there. No questions asked.”

            “Of course,” Reyes agreed. “I’ll ask Dr. Nakamoto to look into his contacts and see if he can dig up any names. I just want what’s best for you, Scott.”

            “Yeah,” Scott whispered, “I know, Reyes.”

            Leaning forward, Scott pulled Reyes into another embrace, turning his face to kiss Reyes firmly on the cheek, his prickly stubble catching pleasantly against Reyes’ skin. Embarrassingly enough, Reyes felt his face heat up at the affectionate touch, but his brain couldn’t manage to form a proper reaction before Scott had slipped free of his grasp, heading into his room and locking the door soundly behind himself.

            Reyes watched after him in awe, lifting his hand to touch the spot that Scott’s lips had so tenderly caressed. Reyes wouldn’t have been surprised if he turned into a puddle of goo right then and there, pining after the younger man like a love-struck fool.

            God, Scott Ryder was going to be the death of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I had originally planned another double post for you guys, but I've been having a bit more nerves than inspiration lately.  
> First off, my second year of college starts tomorrow (which I'm extremely nervous about), so that means that I'm not going to be posting much until I get adjusted to my new schedule.  
> Then, to top it all off, I recently found out about the news on Andromeda's DLC and SP storyline. *eternal screeching*  
> So, yeah, I'm not the happiest camper right now, and I had actually wanted to post more on my BDSM series before I started school but now have no drive to write for it. UUGGGHHHH...  
> This chapter was already written, though, so I didn't mind going back to edit it. A good portion of the next chapter is written too, but it's no where near finished because there are a couple of plot points that I want to get to.  
> That being said, I am going to go ahead and say this now. NO, I will not be quitting ANY of my series because of what happened to Andromeda. I do plan on finishing, but my time will simply be stretched a bit thinner than what I'm used to. But I will be finishing up this story and my BDSM series in due time. I hope that all of my readers will be patient, and I sincerely hope that you guys will finish this journey with me.  
> I hope you all have a good day, and THANKS FOR READING!  
> -Rose <3


	8. The Meeting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scott meets some of Reyes' inner circle, and Keema brings some new information to the table.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so this chapter is going to get very heavy in dialog at the end in order to help the readers (and Scott) understand this connection that I'm trying to draw. Just a heads up for everyone.
> 
> No Chapter Warnings this time, but I am introducing some OCs of a sort. They're technically based off of the three Collective members we see in-game, depending on what you choose in High Noon. AKA The sniper, along the woman and the salarian we see in the getaway shuttle (if you choose Sloane).
> 
> You'll also start to see some more parallels between this 'verse and the games, but I hope you like this overall twist that I tried to throw in there.
> 
> Anyways, ENJOY! <3

            After Scott had showered and dressed for the day, he didn’t have much else to do other than to wander aimlessly around his new home, impatiently waiting for Reyes to finish up his morning routine before they headed out to this special meeting of his. Pip and Peanut were all too busy demolishing their food and water bowls in another portion of the house, so Scott was utterly alone for the moment. Just him, his thoughts, and his expectations for the day.

            As Reyes was only too eager to explain to Scott, he had an obligation as the Collective’s First to update his inner circle on his and Shepard’s findings in New York. That would help keep everyone on the same page and, hopefully, aid in moving the investigation along. Similarly, his most trusted representatives were required to report to the Charlatan anything that happened while he was away, no matter how big or how small a matter.

            Reyes had implied that it would be pretty straightforward, but Scott had a feeling that things weren’t ever that simple.

            Of course, a guy could wish, but wishes had a tendency of never coming true.

            Scott hadn’t been too deeply settled within his wandering thoughts before Reyes appeared in front of him, dressed in his full business attire with his hair meticulously in order, his light brown eyes growing somber in a way that Scott hadn’t seen before. His entire demeanor had changed in an instant from this casual, playful man into someone that was suddenly all business. In a way, it made sense, Scott figured. Reyes was obviously serious about his role as head of the Collective, felt personally accountable for each and every person under his command, and to lead such a large and powerful organization had to require someone that had a lot of competence and experience.

            It was just so unusual, though, because it was such a drastic transition. It was like Scott had truly watched Reyes Vidal transform into the Charlatan within seconds, steeling himself from any emotion and all weaknesses. It was like they were two completely different people, but somehow not at the same time.

            Scott felt disoriented, to say the least. Something in his gut found the entire thing unnerving and somehow— alluring? The power and confidence that Reyes always seemed to exude was still there, unchanged in the process of his metamorphosis, and it only added to the overall image that he seemed to display.

            Reyes cleared his throat then, his expression still stern, his eyes softening around the edges just enough for Scott to catch onto some of his true emotions.

            “You sure you want to do this?” Reyes asked stoically, adjusting the collar of his shirt distractedly.

            “I’m positive,” Scott answered. “And don’t worry. I’ll try keep the breakdowns to a minimum while we’re out.”

            The Charlatan scowled, allowing the tiniest crack to chip away at his carefully-placed mask. Within milliseconds of the fault, he had already recovered from the slipup.

            “I’ll always worry,” he said simply, the “about you” part left lingering unsaid in the air between them. Scott didn’t need to hear him say it though. From his tone alone, Scott knew.

            “Things will be fine,” Scott reassured him, heading towards the front door with Reyes in tow.

            “Ha! You say that now,” Reyes snorted emotionlessly, rushing ahead to open the door for Scott. The younger man rolled his eyes at the motion, walking up to the car while Reyes locked everything up.

            Before Reyes could get a chance, Scott slid in as soon as the car was unlocked, prompting Reyes to roll his eyes this time around.

            Pretty soon, they were heading out onto the streets, riding towards the mainland again.

            “Where exactly is this meeting going to be?” Scott asked curiously, the roof of the car settled firmly in place today, the air conditioning beating back the heavy humidity outside of the car. The radio played in the background, nothing more than white noise next to their conversation.

            “At one of my more… ‘legitimate’ buildings in the city.”

            “Why there in particular?”

            “Because, except for me and a few others, no one has access to that particular office. I can’t exactly be seen at the Collective’s base of operations, so I make do with what I have. We always check for bugs and bombs each visit, of course, but the chances of there being a breach are slim to none.”

            “You sound confident in that.”

            “Because I am. Besides, if anything _did_ happen to compromise that area, I have no doubt that I’d find whoever did it and deal with them accordingly.”

            Scott didn’t have to ask how he planned to “deal with them.” It was a simple enough conclusion to draw without the specifics.

            Without much else to say, both men fell into a heavy silence, and Scott eventually got tired of awkwardly shifting around. He soon started fiddling with the radio, seeking through channels and adjusting the volume. Reyes looked downright appalled.

            “Hey!” he admonished, using the controls on the steering wheel to interrupt Scott’s aimless searching. Scott threw him an annoyed glance. “Absolutely not. Driver controls the radio.”

            Noticing a bit of the Charlatan slipping away, revealing the more familiar version of Reyes underneath, Scott latched onto the chance to pull the smuggler out of his brooding disguise, breaking the rising tension between them as they settled into a round of childish bickering.

            It lasted long enough, long enough for both of the men to relax around each other again, even once they arrived at the large commercial building, the Charlatan regaining his control over Reyes’ body. Having better prepared himself for the change, Scott did his best to take it all in stride, following behind Reyes as he parked in his designated space and headed for the door.

            Upon entry, it was like being thrown into a wild zoo with all of the people recklessly rushing about, greeting Reyes enthusiastically once they realized who he was.

            Several had to do a double-take to ensure that they weren’t going crazy, acting as if Reyes’ unanticipated arrival was a blessing on Earth, but none of them was what Scott would call “discreet.” All of them were clearly vying for something, another raise or a big promotion perhaps, kissing major ass to someone that barely gave them the time of the day.

            Taking Scott by the hand, Reyes expertly navigated through the maze of people, brushing each person off with experienced, placating promises until they finally managed to reach the elevator.

            After they escaped the fawning masses, the two men rode the lift all the way to the top in silence and stepped out in unison once they reached their floor. Reyes didn’t give Scott much time to hesitate, dragging the younger man along to his office, sparing a quick greeting to his receptionist along the way.

            Even then, Scott could only spare a brief glance to appreciate the sleek, modern office before he noticed the others in the room. Two men and two women. All looking at Scott with a mixture of curiosity and distrust.

            One woman, a familiar woman, stood first to greet Scott, clad in a stylish, form-fitting pantsuit with her curly hair placed proudly on display.

            She smiled warmly in greeting, but Scott still didn’t know whether to trust that smile or not.

            “Ryder, what a pleasant surprise to see you again,” Keema said evenly. Her voice was soothing and cool like a nice, refreshing spring, yet her tone was housing something more, something unknown, underneath. “And, Reyes, late as always.”

            “ _Fashionably_ late,” Reyes corrected, prompting Keema to scoff at his cheekiness.

            “I guess that’s one way of putting it.”

            Reyes raised a defiant brow at her, both of them locking eyes meaningfully, causing Scott to look between them apprehensively.

            “Uh… are you sure I should be here, Reyes?” Scott whispered worriedly, but Reyes didn’t answer, transfixed by his unspoken conversation with Keema.

            Another voice piped in, dark and gravelly.

            “Don’t mind them. They do that shit all the time,” a tall, well-aged man said, strolling casually over to Scott with the others following behind him.

            The man’s warm, golden brown skin glowed healthily under the office’s ambient lighting, his dark brown hair covered in spatters of gray, the lines on his face hinting mischievously at his age. He was relatively handsome, all things considered, but it was those penetrating eyes that struck Ryder to the core, that made him have to look away momentarily. They were a sweet, caramel brown that was all too similar to someone else’s in the room.

            Scott grinned at the stranger uneasily, opening his mouth to speak, but the man’s voice had been enough to pop Reyes’ and Keema’s little bubble.

            Reyes smirked fondly at the speaker.

            “Scott Ryder, I’d like you to meet my inner circle. You know Keema already, of course.” She nodded at Scott pointedly, staring at him with her intimidatingly shrewd gaze, as if she was uncovering every one of his dirty secrets with those bright blue eyes. Scott looked away to the man before him, whom Reyes was now gesturing to.

            “This is Robert Martinez. He used to be a Marine a long time ago, but he’s now the Collective’s tactical expert. He’s also an old family friend.”

            “Heh, you calling me old, Vidal?” Robert rasped, shooting Scott a cautious look. “Where’d you find this one?”

            “New York,” Reyes said dismissively, earning a hard glance from Robert and the other two.

            “Yeah, no kidding. We figured that much out on our own,” the other woman interjected, blowing at her short, side-swept bangs. Looking out at Scott through the two tattoos surrounding her inquisitive eyes, her piercing grey irises were almost as alluring as Keema’s unnatural blue ones. “So, who is he to you? A recruit? A pet? It’s not like you to bring a conquest to our briefings.”

            Scott winced at that, the inquiry hitting a little too close to home for his tastes. Nobody out of the trio even spared him a second glance, all eyes trained on Reyes, but Keema saw because of course she did.

            When she noticed him looking at her, she gave Scott a sympathetic once-over, sadness and pity swirling in her stormy eyes, and Scott felt his entire body stiffen at her all-knowing gaze.

            Reyes, however, was too busy glowering at the other woman to notice what was going on between Keema and Scott. He clenched his jaw tight, grinding his teeth.

            “He is not a _pet_ ,” Reyes spat, folding his arms defensively over his chest, shuffling protectively to the side so that he was slightly situated between Scott and the others. “He’s working for me personally, and that’s all you need to know. All of you are to treat him with the upmost respect while he is with us. If he ever goes to the base—” _And that’s a big IF,_ Reyes thought. “—everyone better be on their best behavior around him. If anyone causes harm to him on the Collective’s watch, I’ll make sure to hold every member personally responsible for the damages.”

            Reyes watched them soak in his words in utter bewilderment.

            While the two unnamed people gawped at him in mere confusion, Keema and Robert were already flicking their gazes intuitively between Scott and Reyes, their minds sorting through the puzzle on their own.

            Keema and Robert were experienced enough with all things Reyes that they were already forming their own hypotheses, using their prior knowledge about the Charlatan to try and work their way through his surprisingly impulsive behavior. They both had their guesses, of course, but neither could be certain at that moment.

            Keema was certain of one thing, though. Despite her curiosity, she _was_ Reyes’ Second, and that actually meant something among the Collective. She was Reyes’ most loyal associate, his closest friend, and she needed to diffuse this situation.

            “Well, you heard him,” Keema replied supportively, dialing down Reyes’ unexpected hostility with a more diplomatic reaction. She nodded at Scott companionably. “This man is to be under the Collective’s protection. Better get word out to our members. Make sure to keep it quiet, though. Last thing we need is to draw public attention to the man.”

            “I can have some of our guards briefed on the situation as well,” Robert added gruffly, “just in case you ever need someone to watch him while you’re away on business.”

            While Scott was ready to fire back at the implication that he needed a babysitter, of all things, Reyes threw him a pointed look that clearly told him to shut it for now and bring it up later. Preferably, when they were away from his subordinates.

            Looking away petulantly, Scott kept quiet.

            “Now, if that’s over with, need I remind you all that we actually have work to do today? Keema said. “Better rush through these introductions. Scott, this talented woman here is the one and only Erin Williams, our elite hacker and tech expert, and that nervous wreck over there is Odik Beks, our mad scientist and genius inventor. Don’t worry, neither of them will bite.”

            Both nodded at Scott in greeting but politely kept their distance, casting Reyes funny looks, as if he would rip their heads off if they even so much as thought about moving towards his companion.

            “Well, we don’t bite _much_ ,” Erin corrected with a tinkling laugh, breaking away from the group to go secure her spot in front of Reyes’ desk.

            Odik followed along, mumbling rapidly to himself while his dark, almost black, eyes glazed over. Fingers twitching, he swiped distractedly at the air before him, touching deliberately at something that no one else in the room could possibly see.

            Scott couldn’t tell what he was chattering on about, but it had something to do with some calculations that were way too advanced for Scott’s limited understanding. It seemed best to simply leave the man alone with his bumbling, taking his actions in stride, as all of the others did.

            Robert gave Reyes a tight frown, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Don’t think I’m done with you yet, boy. I want to hear more about this—” Robert looked towards Scott, then back towards Reyes. “— _arrangement_ later.”

            “You and me both,” Keema mumbled, walking away with Robert.

            Their entire setup seemed so staged, yet so undeniably familiar to them. While Odik and Erin sat in front of the desk, they angled their chairs towards one another and huddled their faces tightly together as they discussed their latest projects. Keema pulled up her own chair on Reyes’ right side, idly perusing through the files and paperwork scattered on his desk. And huddled up against the window, right behind Reyes’ chair, Robert stood there with a surly scowl, his eyes repeatedly scoping out the landscape with a paranoid sweep.

            Reyes cleared his throat, touching Scott’s wrist lightly.

            “Well, that was interesting,” Scott murmured, turning towards Reyes. The Charlatan smiled emptily, maintaining a professional distance, regardless of his insatiable urge to close the space.

            “And the fun hasn’t even started yet,” Reyes reminded him, encircling Scott’s wrist with his fingers, tugging softly. “Come on.”

            Reyes led him over to his desk, pulling up a chair at Reyes’ left side, positioning Scott way closer to his seat than all of the others in the room.

            Before Scott could stop and think of the meaning behind such an arrangement, all eyes in the room instantaneously darted towards him while Reyes held his chair out —not out of some sense of gentlemanly behavior, but out of some perverted need to stake a claim. That heaviness from before returned to saturate the atmosphere as Reyes settled into his seat.

            Ignoring his crew’s baffled stares, Reyes booted up the laptop on his desk, opening up all of the accompanying files for the meeting and sending the briefings to each of their personal devices.

            Once they all confirmed that they had received them, sorting through the information at their own pace, Reyes dove straight into his spiel over everything that had happened while he was working in New York. That morning, Shepard had forwarded Reyes all of the relevant files on what happened, including the information that the Renegades managed to recover from that facility. They hadn’t gained much before Cerberus’ self-destructive protocols started permanently wiping everything out, but it was just enough to make out exactly what had been happening there.

            All eyes turned towards Scott when Reyes mentioned the human trafficking that had been taking place, and all eyes immediately went back to Reyes when he mentioned the drugs. Namely the Oblivion.

            If nothing else gathered their undivided attention, _that_ certainly did.

            And that was when everyone started talking at once, getting into a deep discussion, bouncing ideas and theories off of each other.

            _Well, almost everyone,_ Scott thought, glancing back towards Robert, who was too busy staring pensively outside of the window to pay the others any mind.

            Eventually, he stepped forward and spoke up.

            “Reyes, we might actually have a lead on that front,” Robert informed him tersely, garnering all of the attention in the room with his commanding presence. “You remember that imposter that we captured before you left? The one that’s been feeding our people bad intel?”

            “You mean Dorado?” Reyes asked skeptically. “What about her? I thought that we dismissed that as an isolated case.”

            “We had. Until I had my men raid her apartment. I wanted to see if we could find out anything more on why she was trying to impersonate the Charlatan. Turns out, we had a bit of an infestation problem.”

            Reyes scowled. “Outcasts?”

            “Unfortunately.”

            Reyes sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. “How many did we lose again?”

            “Two because of her ‘intel,’ but it could’ve been worse,” Robert said stiffly. “Way worse. She had some of Sloane’s experimental tech. As far as we could tell, she was trying to download all of our archives before taking down our power grid.”

            “At least, that was their hope,” Erin said in her accented voice, wrinkling her nose in distaste. “That lousy piece of crap couldn’t even hack into my _phone’s_ defenses, let alone what I put in place for the base’s mainframe.”

            “Too bad for Sloane that her little rat got greedy,” Keema sniffed.

            “It’s still too close for comfort,” Reyes stated coldly. “Robert, did you do a sweep of the base afterwards?”

            “Of course I did,” Robert huffed. “Found two more of the pests. All of them are locked up and being interrogated as we speak, but you might want to start with Dorado if you plan on making any visits today. From what we’ve gathered, she’s the highest ranking official there. If we have any hope of finding out why Cerberus had that Oblivion, she might be it.”

            “And we might have the perfect way of making her talk,” Erin chimed in, beaming wickedly at Reyes. “She’s not very receptive to your more… physical methods, but I’ve managed to dig up some dirt on her. Sending it to you now, Boss.”

            “I’ll have to head there soon. The quicker we find out what she knows, the better,” Reyes sighed.

            “I’m coming with you,” Keema announced, leaving no room for arguments. “Before we leave, though… Odik, show him what else you have.”

            Startling at being put on the spot, Odik quickly recovered and shared a victorious grin with Erin before he reached into a large, clunky bag beside him. Digging around the clutter inside, spouting off some unintelligible equations under his breath, Odik eventually pulled out what appeared to be a stun grenade, setting it triumphantly on the desk.

            Robert squinted at it, approaching the desk to get a better look. “It’s done?”

            Odik looked like he was visibly holding himself back from launching into an endless tirade about the bomb, resisting the urge to dive into all of the mechanics and intricate details that went into developing it.

            Instead, he forced a nod, his voice coming out strained. “Yes, I’ve already tested several prototypes. The poison is entirely effective on all subjects that I’ve experimented on, but we won’t know how it performs until it’s tested in the field.”

            _Poison?_ Scott thought skeptically.

            “And that’s where I come in?” Robert claimed.

            Odik gulped under the former Marine’s stern stare, but his reply wasn’t any less confident in its approach. “Precisely. You should properly train any volunteers that are willing to handle the weapon, and —of course— they should be aware of safety protocols before setting any of them off. The last thing we want are accidental losses.”

            “Are you sure that our people won’t be harmed?” Reyes asked firmly. Odik nodded rapidly, his fingers twitching, wanting nothing more than to return to his lab and get his hands back onto some of his unfinished toys.

            “Oh, most definitely. As long as everyone takes the precautions that I’ve recommended, they should be fine. I’d go out into the field myself, but—”

            “We have too much work on our plate as it is,” Erin finished for him, Odik nodding along in agreement. “First night off in months last night, and I was busy tracking the Outcasts’ movements. Speaking of which, if you want to perform a test run on those beauties, I have a time and place.”

            “What did you find?” Reyes asked, watching while Erin accessed her information on her personal tablet.

            “Sloane has a haul coming into Kadara Port this Friday from overseas. My intel says it’s a standard load. Weapons, armor, the likes. Might be something special, though, because her security detail is way too large for the type of vessel coming in.”

            “Not only that, but word has it that she’s sending Kaetus to cover this,” Keema said. “That alone lets us know that it’s something big. Something that might be worth our time.”

            “Can we spare the people?” Reyes asked Robert. The older man clicked his tongue thoughtfully for a few moments before finally giving a nod of approval.

            “Yeah, I’ll put a few of our saboteurs and infiltrators on this. We’ll want to keep our involvement quiet if we want to avoid Sloane’s detection.”

            “Then that settles that,” Reyes grumbled.

            He then started speaking on other, more urgent matters that the Collective needed to attend to, but Scott honestly wasn’t focusing on any of that at the moment. He was too busy thinking about this possible link to Cerberus that they had mentioned. A link that Scott was all too eager to see in person.

            Obviously, he understood that the chance of this being an actual, useful connection was up in the air at this point, but he remained fixated on it nonetheless.

            He only paused to look up when Reyes concluded the meeting, dismissing his crew to their appointed tasks of the day.

            Not needing much more encouragement than that, Erin and Odik hurriedly raced to return to Odik’s lab, dashing out of the door before anything else could be said. Shaking his head fondly after the two, Robert announced that he was going downstairs to arrange an escort to the warehouse that they were keeping Dorado in. Reyes was about to argue against the formal measures, but he instantly snapped his mouth shut when Robert threw him a menacing glare.

            Grumbling under his breath, Reyes insulted the man in Spanish as he walked out of the door, but Robert paid him no mind, flipping the younger man off as he went.

            Keema cleared her throat, and Reyes glanced at her curiously.

            Pursing her lips inquisitively, her eyes darted between him and Scott for a solid moment before she reached out next to her chair. She pulled out a file from her nearby bag and tossed it on the desk. Looking away from her friend, she addressed Scott once she spoke.

            “I need to talk to you. _Both_ of you,” she announced, staring at them with her icy blue eyes.

            Scott’s brows furrowed in confusion.

            “Why me?” he asked in bewilderment, watching as she shifted uncomfortably in her chair.

            The shuffling movement seemed so out of place for her usually composed demeanor, but one look at Reyes’ puzzled expression reassured Scott that he wasn’t the only with questions.

            Reyes leaned forward and picked up the file. Keema’s eyes remained trained on Scott the entire time while the Charlatan quickly skimmed through the contents. Whatever was in there caused his spine to stiffen and his hands to clench. He snapped the file abruptly shut and threw it on his desk in exasperation, groaning wearily as he rubbed his hands over his face.

            “You work fast,” Reyes noted tersely. Keema frowned, insulted.

            “Don’t sound so surprised,” she chided, but Reyes didn’t want to hear it.

            “I don’t have time for this shit today, Keema,” Reyes sneered, glowering at her affronted expression. “We have enough going on as it is.”

            “What is it?” Scott whispered anxiously, but neither of them would answer, suddenly locked in another one of their staring contests. Scott looked between them, repeating himself more firmly. “ _What is it?”_

            “Reyes, he deserves to know,” Keema snapped.

            “Know what?” Scott asked, growing more infuriated by the second.

            Neither of them listened to him.

            “And what exactly will this solve?” Reyes retorted angrily, not noticing Scott as he inched closer to the desk and —more importantly— the files.

            Keema sniffed, crossing her arms over her chest in distaste. “My friend, _you_ wanted a lead, so I just gave you the best lead we have, even with Dorado in our custody. _Who_ , I might add, was probably trained by Sloane to be prepared for this exact outcome. There’s no guarantee that Dorado will get us anywhere.”

            “And _this_ will?” Reyes asked incredulously.

            But Keema was barely listening now because she finally noticed Scott scooting around in the background, just as he managed to swipe the file off of Reyes’ desk. “Well, we’ll see soon enough.”

            Reyes turned in time to watch a look of pure horror spread across Scott’s face as he flipped unsteadily through the papers, reality slapping him right across the cheek when he realized what he exactly was looking at. He eventually turned a page and encountered what had to be a mugshot, and he knew that he had seen enough.

            Trying to calm his frantic breathing, Scott flung the file back onto the desk with a brutal force. It felt like someone had poured boiling hot water right over the palms of his hands, and Scott couldn’t stop them from shaking if his life depended on it.

            He gulped, wondering when his mouth became so dry.

            “Can someone please explain to me why there is a picture of my father in your precious ‘files’?” Scott hissed through gritted teeth, scratching irritably at the arms of his chair.

            He heard one of them —or probably both of them— sigh in answer, but he couldn’t seem to hear much beyond the ringing in his ears.

            “I performed my own background test on you,” Keema admitted honestly. “To ensure Reyes’ safety.”

            Scott scoffed at her, blinking furiously. “And you gathered that much from the one day you knew me?”

            She smiled wryly. “You’d be surprised at all of the things that some of us are capable of, but this isn’t why I brought this all out. Reyes wouldn’t order the check, so I did. And I wouldn’t have told either of you about my findings unless it was important.”

            “Please, do tell me what’s so important about my ‘father’ that you had to bring him up at all,” Scott snarled.

            Keema leaned forward a bit in her chair, her smile turning gloomy. “Scott, I’m not going to presume that I know _anything_ about your life from before, but I do know this. You seem to have an interest in this Outcast-Cerberus thing going on, and I believe that your fath— that _Alec_ may be the key to figuring it all out.”

            “How so?” Scott wondered.

            “Because Keema believes that he’s working with Cerberus,” Reyes whispered mournfully, watching as Scott glanced at him in disbelief.

            Could someone’s heart possibly be broken by the very person they hated? Because Scott’s chest seemed to bloom with an agonizing pain from hearing those words alone.

            His father? With the same people that performed all of those unsavory acts on his own son? No, it couldn’t be. No father could possibly hate their child _that_ much.

            Scott blinked again, biting his lip in stubborn protest.

            “How do you know?” Scott murmured bleakly, feeling all of the energy leak from his bones. Keema and Reyes shared a weighted glance, but Reyes’ Second pressed forward.

            “It’s nothing certain, really. As a matter of fact, most evidence we have suggests otherwise. It could be—”

            Scott interrupted. “Please, if you have any respect for me as a fellow human being, you’d stop avoiding the subject and tell me already. I’m not a piece of glass, okay? I can take whatever you have to say, and it’s downright insulting that you treat me otherwise. Especially when you take in the fact that this is my _biological family_ we’re speaking about.”

            “Well,” Keema sighed, “it’s just difficult deciding where —or, maybe _when_ to start off. As you can clearly see from that file—” She gestured to the bulky stack. “—there’s a lot of information on what happened, and you’re going to need at least a little bit of context if you want any hope of understanding his involvement.”

            “Then give me the basic timeline,” Scott sighed. “I don’t care. Just somebody please help me understand how you reached that conclusion.”

            Keema wrinkled her nose. “Perhaps I’ll let Reyes start. As I’m sure you’re aware of, a lot of Alec’s legacy rested in the military, and that’s more up Reyes’ alley than mine.”

            “Fine with me,” Scott grumbled, angling himself reluctantly towards the Charlatan.

            Reyes grimaced at the dirty look that his little prince was throwing him.

            Like Reyes needed something else to worry about when they returned home.

            Breathing in deeply, Reyes inhaled and exhaled, collecting his thoughts.

            “I only know what I received in my reports. It was two, maybe three, years ago. The medical community had just gotten word that Ellen Ryder had developed some rare disease. Doctors said that it was terminal and gave her about a year to live—”

            “But Alec wouldn’t just leave it at that. Not when it came to Mom,” Scott said in understanding, scoffing blandly under his breath. Reyes nodded his head in agreement.

            “Nope, which is exactly why he got desperate. Started looking into some ways to pay for experimental treatments, but his insurance couldn’t possibly pay it all. And those treatments cost money. As in _a lot_ of money.”

            “Money that he couldn’t possibly raise on his own,” Keema interjected.

            “So he used his Special Ops connections. Looked around for high-paying jobs. Illegal or not. He eventually ended up contacting one of the Benefactor’s international cells for his ‘Initiative,’” Reyes explained. “Worked with the Benefactor’s Second, Jien Garson, and started developing certain tech that left our American leadership _very_ upset with him.”

            “What kind of tech?” Scott asked.

            “Weapons mostly,” Keema answered. “It was rumored that some probably had nuclear properties, but our main concern was the fact that he was getting a bit deep into artificial intelligence.”

            “Too deep, if you ask any sane person,” Reyes sniffed. “So the American government and military had him court-martialed. He’d been facing many charges, and all of them were supposed to end with a bullet going through his skull. The entire ordeal had gotten so public and political that even the citizens were hoping to be able to witness his execution live through the media.”

            “But…” Scott prodded.

            “ _But_ , Alec has friends in high places, and one of them just so happens to be Attorney General Castis Vakarian. I’m sure you remember hearing his son’s name while we were in New York.”

            “Small world,” Keema snickered. Reyes shrugged.

            “Anyways,” Reyes continued, “Castis pulled some strings behind the scenes and managed to get Alec off scot-free.”

            “So how did he go from being free to making the same mistake twice by working for Cerberus?” Scott asked wearily, rubbing tiredly at his throbbing temples.

            Keema picked up the story this time.

            “Because, right after that, he was probably left with a mountain of medical bills and no way to pay for them. Also, word in the underground was that the Benefactor was ordering a hit on him after whoever-it-is killed Garson, so Alec had to leave while he was ahead. Left behind his wife and daughter and simply vanished.”

            “But there’s still money being so charitably ‘donated’ to Ellen’s treatments,” Reyes said, reaching forward to slide a statement free from the file, handing it to Scott for his own perusal. Scott balked quietly over the payments while the others continued to explain.

            “Now, here’s the fun part,” Keema chimes, “because there’s no hardcore evidence on what happened to the man afterwards. Most of it’s circumstantial, and all we know is that he was in the Northeast at the time of his disappearance. That means that we could narrow it down to the two main syndicates in that area. The Renegades and Cerberus.

            “Then, there’s the possible connections to the Renegades that we have to consider. The Vakarian men don’t necessarily meet over Sunday dinners and talk sports together, _but_ we do know that Garrus Vakarian’s mother has been sick for a while. If Castis took the time to talk to Garrus and presented Alec as the suffering husband of a dying wife, then bam! Garrus reaches out to Shepard, and Shepard hires Alec as a result.”

            “And then there’s the whole Special Ops thing to worry about,” Reyes added. “They never worked together, as far as I know, but they both went through the N7 program. Shepard could’ve just as easily hired him out of some skewed sense of loyalty.”

            “Okay…” Scott droned, placing the papers back on the desk. “But you’re telling me all of the reasons why we should believe that he’s with the _Renegades_.”

            “Because that’s what he wants the underground to believe,” Keema explained, “but, don’t worry, we’re not going to assume anything. I’m sure Reyes wouldn’t mind contacting Shepard about this, but we have two other —very significant— things that we need to take into consideration.

            “One, that’s the fact that John Shepard has dealt with hostile AIs before in his military career. He’s extremely strict about it, and he wouldn’t want to touch anyone dealing with it with a ten-foot pole.

            “Secondly, there’s the matter of the finances, and this is the most important reason for my case on Cerberus.”

            “Seriously?” Scott scoffed. “Aren’t all of you syndicate types rich or something?”

            Keema chuckled. “Something like that, but just because we have wealth doesn’t mean that we can throw it around without a care in the world. We have salaries to pay, people to feed, and investments to make. Budgeting is crucial when playing our games, and the Renegades —like the Collective— is still relatively new to things.

            “Which means that they don’t have the particular net of resources like Cerberus has, and they logically wouldn’t fork out that much money for one person, no matter how valuable. I’m sure Vakarian is dishing out every penny he has towards his mother’s treatments, and _he’s_ still struggling. So in what world would Alec ever receive more than Shepard’s right hand man, _if_ he was working for the Renegades?” She recognized the look of weary resignation that settled over Scott’s expression, and she sincerely hated to deliver this news to him. “I’m sorry, Scott, but the details point at Alec being with Cerberus.”

            Before she even finished, Scott had shoved away from the desk and was pacing around the office like a caged animal, trying to calm his breathing while he ran his shaky fingers through his now-tangled hair.

            “Why tell me this?” Scott croaked.

            “Keema wants to use you as bait to lure Alec out of hiding,” Reyes sighed, knowing his Second’s motives better than anyone.

            Scott’s eyes darted towards him in suspicion, hardening into stone before he let out a humorless, bark of a laugh.

            “Why in the hell would that bastard want to see me? He threw me out of the only home I had. Why in the world would he possibly care what happened to me, after all of these years?!” Scott yelled, his tears finally breaking free as he continued to pace, chest heaving unevenly.

            “We don’t know for sure if he was aware that Cerberus had kidnapped you,” Keema replied, standing up to approach Scott.

            She grabbed something out of the file on her way and ignored his hateful glower, stopping only once she had successfully intercepted his path.

            He stopped his pacing, clenching his jaw and balling his hands.

            “Move,” he ordered, but Keema stood her ground.

            Instead, she held out the piece of paper to Scott, and his heart plummeted to his feet. His stomach turned uneasily.

            “Scott,” Keema whispered softly, “he looked for you. It was already too late by then, but he did. He and Ellen and Sara. They never stopped looking. Your case is still active today, and the police are being sent their own ‘donations’ to make sure it stays that way. It’s possible that Alec is trying to stop it from turning into a cold case.”

            Scott took ahold of the Missing Persons Report while she rambled on, not wanting to believe what he was hearing, but it didn’t matter in the end. He couldn’t see anything with how bad his hands were trembling. With how bad his eyes were blurred.

            He crushed the paper underneath his hands, but it gave him no solace from the pain. That old image of him, smiling youthfully in that picture, had already been seared into his brain.

            They had looked for him. They were still looking for him.

            And Scott hated how it simultaneously changed something and changed nothing at all.

            He looked back up at Keema, then locked eyes with Reyes, effectively interrupting the moment.

            “What do we need to do?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, yeah... Alec's such a tragic hero, and I love him for it. Scott, on the other hand, needs time to cope.
> 
> Too bad they're about to use this against Alec.
> 
> Nevertheless, I hope you guys enjoyed the update! Don't be afraid to comment, tell me what you liked, disliked, or what you speculate will happen. I love to hear from you guys, and THANKS FOR READING! ^_^


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